


Stars In Our Wake

by griesly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom/sub, Hux Has No Chill, Implied/Referenced Overdose, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Military Backstory, Minor Original Character(s), Nightmares, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Poor Anger Management Skills, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spanking, Toys, Under-negotiated Kink, csa mention, emotional whiplash, hux is not a good person, please don't try this at work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:16:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griesly/pseuds/griesly
Summary: As the owner of Flagship Books, Hux has his life perfectly in order until professional disappointment Kylo Ren barges into his shop and unfortunately, his life. Kylo is a terrible employee, Hux is a worse employer, and this arrangement goes about as well as you'd expect.Art is by the amazing and talentedvaliantbarnes. Thank you so much!





	1. Chapter 1

 

_I have met in the streets a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn,_

_the water passed through his shoes and the stars through his soul.  - Victor Hugo_

 

Hux loved the sound of rain. A staccato tap against the glass, or a rhythmic pulse out and through the gutters, it took pride of place above all other music. Nothing was more satisfying than the way a good storm sheared across the streets in a high wind, washing away the accumulated grime of an urban life. What Hux didn't love were the soggy, wet excuses for customers who dragged their muddy feet across the tiles all the way from travel guides to biographies. Umbrellas tossed casually to one side, they blatantly ignored the large round bin sat next to the door for precisely that purpose. If one more of them shook water across the walls like some sort of wet dog, he was going to throw everyone out and close the store until the weather changed.

“Stop glaring at your customers,” Phasma admonished from her seat at the table beside him. Phasma oversaw the HR department at his former architecture firm with an iron fist. Over six feet tall, she wore stiletto heels and red lipstick and scared the shit out of partners and interns alike. She was also the only person he’d ever willingly taken orders from outside the military. Well, they were more like suggestions. Strong suggestions.

“In a few more hours,” she continued briskly, “you can lock the doors and spend the entire night scrubbing this place down to the grout.” Hux closed his eyes. He didn't think her suggestion was supposed to sound better than sleep.

“I'll just have to cling to that thought.” Hux said, his tone dry.

She patted him gently on the hand. “You'll persevere, Hux. You always do.” Phasma juggled a silver umbrella piped in red with a black bag full of novels, bracing herself for the deluge without. Hux didn't regret leaving First In Order to build his small empire of paper and ink, not for a moment, but he did miss working with someone so sensible.

Hux's gaze traveled past her retreating figure to something huddled beneath the awning. It was sopping wet, and planted directly in front of the Help Wanted sign. Hux wasn't a praying man, but he suddenly wished for divine intervention to hold the doors shut. So help him, if that creature entered his shop, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

It did. The flotsam resolved itself into a rather tall young man wrapped in an ill-fitting windcheater. He was sopping wet, and Hux thought he resembled nothing so much as a cat gone down the storm drain. He stood in the middle of the floor, glancing hopefully toward the registers. Mitaka had the poor manners to favor him with a smile, which he seemed to take as encouragement.

“Can I help you?” Hux asked, stepping between the man and the counter.

“I saw the sign posted outside,” he said, his voice deep and almost pleasant. It didn't suit him. “I was wondering if I could get an application?”

“Sure!” Mitaka answered, leaning around Hux for a better view. “Um, why don't you hang your jacket by the door and dry out a little?” Hux glared at him, and Mitaka managed a defiant look for all of three seconds. The intruder nodded and did as he was asked, earning him perhaps a fourth of a point in Hux's internal tally. At least he could take direction. The kid glanced longingly toward the coffee bar, but sat down at one of the high tables near the history stacks instead. Hux resolved to forget about him and hope for the best.

After an hour of high sales traffic, it had entirely slipped Hux’s mind. He startled a bit when the boy loomed in his peripheral vision, handing back both the application and a pen to Mitaka. Hux frowned. You were supposed to steal the pens, that was why they were printed with the Flagship logo. Cheap advertising. Hux snatched the paper from Mitaka's hand and gave it a cursory glance.

“Thank you for your interest.” Hux said dismissively. “We'll call you if anything opens up.” The kid looked back at the sign, and then back toward the counter with obvious disappointment.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” He trudged back out, taking his coat from the rack and lingering a moment beneath the awning before stepping out into the flood.

“That was rude,” Thanisson muttered while sliding two hardcovers into a bag.

“It was realistic,” Hux corrected, then wrinkled his brow. “Wasn't Mitaka just ...”

“He hadn't taken a break in five hours, Hux.” Thanisson explained, shooting him a dirty look. “There you go, sir. Enjoy your purchase!”

Hux folded a flier and placed it between the pages of a bestseller. He shrugged at the pathetic excuse who actually did work there. “The point stands. I'm not going to hire that – that,” he said, gesturing dismissively in the air. He straightened and rearranged stacks of bookmarks and fliers until their lines were even with the registers.

“Why not?” Thanisson argued. “We're down two staff already, in case you've forgotten. Thank you ma'am, have a lovely day!”

“I assure you, Marc, I haven't managed to forget.” Hux groused. He used to be able to take at least half a day off every once in a while, but things had begun to deteriorate since Finn left without notice. They needed new staff, and badly, but if Hux didn't have certain standards, then who would? He had always preferred to lead by example. “I'm not going to take just anyone off the street,” Hux said with a finality that meant the subject was closed.

There was grumbling behind his back for the rest of the day, which he steadfastly ignored. After closing that night, Hux retrieved the short stack of applications from beneath the registers and took them upstairs where he slept, ate, and did little else. Sprawled on the couch, he sorted through the pile with a pen in one hand and a microbrew in the other. Even the lager couldn't make the applicants seem any better, and Hux eventually abandoned them in favor of a few hours sleep.

 

This was the dream. Hux stood at parade rest before the gravesite, his father's widow draped in black beside him. The chaplain issued opaque platitudes in a language Hux could never replicate, but somehow knew as his mother tongue. He stared at the flag, edges rippling where it covered the casket. Wisps of untroubled clouds sailed across a crisp autumn sky, reflected in the smooth granite monuments of the very, very rich.

Only then did Hux notice the absence of wind. A knot of disquiet formed at the top of his spine, crawling down his back to nest in the hollows of his ribs. The layer of clouds that cradled the gap between the surrounding mountains began to evaporate, leaving only a void in its wake. Something wasn't coming. It never was. The shiver in his lungs told him that something was already here.

A wreath of wilted lilies deserted its stand while the casket began to tremble. The first volley of shots came without warning, a thunderhead breaking in the still, dead air. Seven bullets pierced the clouds and he ducked, waiting for the rounds to fall back to earth. A groan came from the casket as it shook against its moorings. Hux clapped his hands over his ears, shoulders hunched, head down. Take shelter, the leaves whispered, deserting their branches. Take care.

The bullets became a swarm, seven more of them roaring from out steel mouths. The frail woman at his side turned to face him and Hux refused to look, knowing what he would see. He backed away through the spare brown grass, boots squelching in the muck. Hux worried about how long they would take to polish.

A flicker of movement to his right resolved into a shadowed figure as Hux cut his eyes toward the gates. It stood mired in dust and static, tilting its head as if in consideration. It never opened the gates. It never made a sound. Hux turned back just in time to see seven barrels swing down in a silent arc, seven hollow chambers in formation, before the sound shocked him awake.

 

Hux opened his eyes to same dark paneled walls, the same white sheets clutched tightly in his fists. Even the dream was the same. Two years after his father's death, and his mind still recycled the funeral for nightmare fodder. Hux could never recall all the details upon waking, and for that he was grateful. What he could remember was unsettling enough.

He supposed it was better than returning to Marjah every time he closed his eyes. The faded orange numbers of the clock across the room showed the time as 3:27. He knew it was useless to try returning to sleep. He disentangled himself from the sheets, sticky with sweat, and headed for the bathroom. The ritual splash of cold water on his face chased away the last remaining cobwebs of sleep, but left Hux staring into the mirror a bit too long.

Leaving the enclosed space of the bedroom, Hux crossed the open loft to the kitchen and plugged in the kettle. He'd spent months remodeling the upper level of the building after completing work on the store below. It had once been three stories, but he had reduced it to two with high ceilings, finding it easier to breathe. Now half was given over to storage, and the rest became his home.

It never felt finished. It would probably never be finished. An unfortunate truth of architectural design was that the physical reality of any space never quite lived up to his scheme. Best laid plans, and all that.

He'd left the eastern wall faced with brick, matching the walls in the shop below. A large flatscreen he rarely watched matched the width of the fireplace, anchored so deeply into the brick Hux could probably never replace it. A couch and two comfortable chairs surrounded it, bookshelves lining the walls below the windows. He rarely had visitors, making the white fabric an acceptable choice. It felt clean, unmarred. It felt still.

The loft didn't retain heat well, mostly due to industrial-style windows on the north and south walls. On cold nights he was glad of the remodeled chimney allowing for a fireplace both above and below. It was safe and modernized, thoroughly customer proof on the lower level but a bit more open upstairs. It was gas, as burning real wood on either level would have given Hux a very different set of nightmares.

The living area had a sunken feel that might have been cozy somewhere else. The remaining space to the side and back was raised on three graduated plank wood floors allowing for wide steps in the transition. Hux had frequent cause to question the wisdom of the rise, stubbing his toes when he was tired and not paying enough attention. His kitchen took up half the western wall, open shelves, subway tile, and concrete all designed for easy clean up. Hux still spent many a sleepless night scrubbing at the farmhouse sink and stainless steel fittings.

The kettle hissed and turned itself off, soft blue lights at the base dimming low. Hux's routine continued apace, his hands moving almost by rote. Coffee ground. Press filled. Eggs cooked. He had a lovely dining table custom made from reclaimed hardwood that he never used. Hux always seemed to end up eating his breakfast in the kitchen, hovering over the coffee as it brewed.

Like the superfluous table, Hux had used other reclaimed materials for as much as he could. It was less for budgetary or environmental impact and more for the aesthetic, to be honest. His home growing up had been small and cramped, their flat exactly like every other on the estate. Most months they paid roulette with the bills, now paying the electric, next time the rent. The sheer excess of designing a space solely around the needs of one person had been more therapeutic than any amount of talking. Tile, hardwood, and brick never asked you about your mother.

Architecture had been his first real love, before the rank and file reorganized his dreams. He qualified for an honorable discharge after - after the convoy, but his father's influence ensured his continued service. Thinking himself clever, Hux used his time in recovery to start his degree on the Navy's dime, and graduated early after transitioning back into civilian life.

It was meant to be his niche, a place where he could make a name for himself and truly excel. He designed each building to endure, to remain steadfast through time and tribulation, but the same couldn't be said for his career. He was standoffish, impatient, and an utter wreck when it came to dealing with clients. He was useless at networking despite Phasma’s best efforts, worse still at behind the scenes politics, and the absolute last person you wanted to speak at a charity dinner. Filling a large mug from the coffee press, Hux wondered if he would ever stop thinking about the children’s hospital disaster.  

Hux loved his work, but hated his job, and eventually something had to give. He barely made it through his days at the office, but chose to spend his nights drafting ambitious designs instead of sleeping. They were nothing like the loft, and nothing anyone would finance, either. It wasn't all earnest differences of opinions; Hux had the bad sense to sleep with a client who expected far more from him than Hux felt like giving. As luck would have it, he got away with leaving all his poor decisions behind at the same time, deserting everything and everyone in one fell swoop. Classic Hux, Phasma had said, throwing up her hands while berating him.  

He'd caught this building going up for sale completely by chance after taking a wrong turn on the way to a meeting. The mouldering remnants of a bookshop and printing press occupied the space, neglected and sorely in need of work. After a good deal of thinking, reevaluating, and thinking about the thinking, he'd sunk a significant portion of his savings into the purchase. A solid year of work on the weekends had resulted in the remodeled, rebranded and reopened Flagship Booksellers.

He'd tendered his resignation as soon as the shop was ready to set sail. It had only taken a weekend and a single trailer to move out of his apartment and into the loft. It was clean, it was spare, it was a routine, and a light on when he needed it. It was his life, his stability and order, and Hux wouldn't have it any other way.

Over the next few days, Hux shortened the pile of applicants by feeding most of them through the shredder in his office. Eventually only two remained, one with admirable penmanship and word choice, and the other belonging to someone named Kylo Ren. Odd name, but his answers to the lengthy list of questions held a terse sort of poetry. Combined with some marginally relevant skills and open availability, he seemed a reasonable enough candidate.

When the drowned cat walked back in through the front doors, albeit drier this time, Hux almost canceled his interview on the spot. Surely his application had gone into the shredder? He had delegated the task of calling the applicants to Amy, his loyal constant in assistant management, and now deeply regretted the decision.

Hux couldn't reconcile the man loitering around the local history display with the absolute wreck that had floated through the doors last week. Now that he wasn't dripping all over the tiles, he was – well, Hux supposed he could be called handsome. It was an odd sort of attractiveness, all hard lines and jutting angles, but the pieces slotted together to form something unforgettable. It tugged on a loose thread in the back of Hux's mind, flitting away and refusing to settle.

He only hired Ren because the staff were close to mutiny. That's what Hux told himself as he shook the kid's hand and offered him a job. He looked at Hux as if trying to solve him, as if he were an equation, then gave him the strangest smile. It crossed Hux's mind to wonder if he was so easily unraveled, or if he wanted to be.

Hux also supposed he should stop thinking of Ren as a kid, as the application listed his age at 29. Still, that was 8 years younger than Hux, and he chose to be derogatory. It set the bar low for their working relationship which suited Hux just fine.

As luck would have it, Ren nearly got himself fired before his second week was out.

 

It was a mid afternoon on a Monday, and the store was mostly empty. Hux should have known something was wrong when he heard the laughter from the corner tables. They were full of well-dressed uni students, the sort that bled money and were more than welcome to blow it on overpriced coffee in his shop. It wasn't the carefree laughter of the young and privileged who decided to spend the day indoors instead of drinking on the family yacht. No, this laughter was turning nasty with a quickness, accompanied by sneers and whispers hidden behind hands.

The rest of the staff had long ago learned to tolerate their brand of condescension, but Ren – well, in retrospect, Hux really should have warned him off and told him to shelve somewhere else. Given him a project in the back. Done anything but stand back and watch because he wanted to see what Ren would do.

At the moment, the only thing Ren seemed to be doing was perching on a portable stool far too small for him and rearranging the Politics shelves.

“Hey, loser!” The speaker slouched at the table, knocking over a stack of Cliff's Notes. “You played that pathetic gig in Theta house last night, didn't you?” The sort of quiet that always precedes trouble began to settle over the non-fiction stacks.

“I think you've got me confused with Vampire Weekend,” Ren said without looking up. He continued shelving, glancing down the spine of each book and sorting them on his lap.

Hux took a step away from the counter, ready to intervene if necessary. One of his first employees had left after a customer made her cry, and Hux had a sinking feeling this wasn't going to go down the same way.

“I wouldn’t confuse you with anyone half-way decent,” the kid asserted.

“If it was so pathetic,” Ren argued, eyes focused on the shelf. “Why were you there?”

“That party was hella before your dumb ass showed up.” Ren shook his head and went back to ignoring them. The kid leaned over the table, crumpling up a napkin. Hux moved too late to stop it. It sailed through the air and hit Ren on the back of the head. Hux saw his eyes close, saw the moment his temper snapped.

“Hey, asshole.” Ren stood up and kicked the stool behind him. “Some of us weren't born with silver spoons shoved up our asses.” One of the girls snorted out a laugh. Ren's voice started to climb in volume. “Some of us actually have to work for a living, so why don't you go back to the frat house and fuck some pledges?” The kid's face turned red. “Aw, I'm sorry man,” Ren drawled. “You call it _hazing_ in public, don't you?” He made air quotes.

The kid jumped down from the chair and belatedly realized just how many inches Ren had on him. He looked up anyway and set his jaw, and god, Hux was walking as fast as he could without appearing panicked.

“Come on, Blake,” one of the girls said, tugging his his shirtsleeve in a bored attempt to mediate. Hux would bet she did that a lot. “That loser isn't worth your time.”

Ren stared the kid down. “Don't start something you can't finish, asshole,” he warned.

Hux had absolutely no doubt that Ren would wipe the floor with him, and then he'd have to clean up blood, and reports would be filed, and very fancy lawyers would come to call and the whole thing would be an absolute nightmare.

“Ren,” Hux said lightly, stepping out from behind a tall shelf as though just passing by. “There you are. Could you check the shipping manifest for the new releases? Inventory's in the back.” Hux gave him a helpful nod in the right direction. Ren didn't move.

Hux grabbed him by the arm and pressed two fingers hard against the ulnar nerve. Ren choked back an ugly sound and continued to loom over the plucky little bastard in a monogrammed polo. Bradley, or Bentley, Hux thought, but couldn't remember. Not that it mattered. He pushed harder.

Ren fumed silently for a moment longer before turning to glare at Hux as if he might just slug him instead. Hux stared back, but Ren blinked first. “I'll get right on that, Boss,” he said with mock obedience, giving him a half-assed salute, and Hux was actually going to kill him. With his hands. Possibly right now.

Or at least in five minutes. At the moment, Hux's job was to clean up Ren's mess. He gave the squad of hyenas a tight-lipped smile. “Gentleman and ladies, allow me to show you out.”

“What the hell, man?” the other polo-shirt weighed in. “We were just drinking our coffee. Coffee we _paid for_. That gives us the right to sit here.”

Hux smiled wider. “There's a Starbucks down the street. In the future, I suggest you pay them for the privilege.”

The four of them looked at one another before the laughing started up again, quiet strangled sounds as they strolled toward the entrance. Once the doors had closed behind them, Hux watched them double over with laughter, one of the boys wrapping his arms around both girls, who teetered and wove into the street as if drunk. Hux didn't think he had ever been that young.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to calm the rising anger. If he didn't stop it before it got a foothold, he wouldn't be talking to Ren – he'd be yelling, and possibly punching the wall. After a moment of deep breathing, Hux squared his shoulders and headed for the back.

Cassie leaned her elbows on the counter, watching the scene with obvious interest. The fluorescent light brought out the streaks of blue buried in her hair, which had been bright green when she started. She was meant to have dyed it back to a respectable brown, but dark blue was technically one third of the dress code and Hux gave her points for cleverness.

“If you're bored, I can always find something for you to do,” he threatened, unaccountably irritated by her curiosity. She winked, then made the excellent choice to reorganize the front displays.

Ren stood in the doorway to the back rooms, staring balefully toward the entrance. Hux shoved past him, using the proximity to grab Ren by the wrist and drag him into the hallway. His control slipped, and he slammed open the door to the break room, pushing Ren inside. He stumbled, but Hux's grip on his arm prevented him from falling. Hux wasn't sure it had prevented a shoulder injury, but he would deal with that later.

“How dare you threaten a customer?” Hux asked in a low, tight voice, letting the anger bleed into his tone. “We'll be lucky if that little bastard doesn't come back with Daddy.”

“He started it,” Ren griped, and Hux wanted to deck him.

“Really? That's what you're going with?”

Ren looked away. His hair was falling out of its elastic and flopping across his face, but Hux could have sworn he saw Ren roll his eyes. “That asshole deserved so much worse,” Ren insisted. “And he's never going to get what's coming to him.”

“Ren, people like them don't matter,” Hux said, despite knowing his words would never cut through the man's anger. “They've never worked a day in their lives, never had to scrape by on hard work and spare change. They're not worth your time, or your job.”

“I'd still feel a hell of a lot better if you'd let me punch him in the teeth.”

Hux sighed. “This? This right here is why I didn't want to hire you in the first place.” That wasn't exactly true. Hux hadn't wanted to hire him because he tracked mud across his floor. But a few days into Ren's employment, Hux had new reason to wish he'd simply shredded the application.

“What, you took one look at me and thought I was trouble?” Ren fired back, leaning too far into Hux's personal space. “I'm not good enough for you, or your fucking customers? Is that it?”

“You know that isn’t why,” Hux said, exasperation setting in. “You're a child with a fearful temper and a very short fuse and you nearly got us sued.” Ren's hair wasn't just in his own face anymore, it was tickling at Hux's skin and if he didn't back the hell off then Hux couldn't be blamed for his actions. “For God's sake, put your hair back up. You're lucky I don't make you cut it.”

Ren moved to lift his arms, but found his right hand still restricted. He tugged slightly at Hux's hold on his wrist, and Hux reflexively tightened his grip before realizing he was meant to release it. Ren had large wrists, proportional to his obscenely large hands, and Hux struggled to clasp his fingers about one tightly.

“Man, screw this. I don't have to take your bullshit.” Ren looked confused as well as angry, and Hux couldn’t really blame him.

“No, you don't,” Hux agreed. “I hear the Sanitation department is hiring. And I just saw a sign this morning down at the Burger Shack. I'm sure they'd take you on as a fry cook.”

“Been there,” Ren said. “Done that. They fired my ass, too.”

“I'm not firing you!” Hux exclaimed, squeezing Ren's wrist in frustration. The words surprised him, and he wondered why exactly they were true. “Against my better judgment, I'm trying to give you a chance. Stop trying so hard to fuck it up.” Ren stared back at him for a long moment before letting his gaze travel down to Hux's hand on his skin.

“You gonna leave a mark?” he asked softly, and Hux wasn't sure if he was being warned off or entreated. That was a button Ren absolutely did not want to push. _Stop projecting_ , Hux chastised himself. _Of course he doesn't want you to hurt him_. Of all the stupid things he could have done –

“Why?” Hux forced out the question, lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry. “So you can report me to the Department of Labor?” Ren shook his head, his eyes still locked on Hux's hand.

His brain must not have shown up for work that day because god help him, Hux squeezed harder. Ren's eyelids fluttered shut for just a moment before he looked back up. He held Hux's stare, and Hux could see his pupils widen. He twisted his grip, digging his fingers into the soft skin. Hux felt a pop as the lunate shifted and Ren's head fell back against the wall. Ren's breathing came shallow, and Hux watched in fascination as a blush crept across his cheeks. Hux pinched his skin just above the veins when he bit his lip. Ren’s lips parted as he looked Hux straight in the eye and Hux stood rooted to the spot, blatantly ignoring the voice of reason.

Ren's lips curved up into a smirk, and Hux knew he was in the worst sort of trouble. Twisting his arm roughly in Hux’s grip, Ren lined up the bone with Hux's thumb and easily broke free. Without dropping his gaze for even a single moment, Ren leaned back against the door and slipped into the hallway.

Shit. It didn't matter if Ren seemed to enjoy it. What Hux had just done was every sort of unethical, and foolish besides. Still, there was a part of him that thrilled to it, the part that longed to take out his aggression in a very different way. A place inside himself Hux had worked hard to fill with other things over the last several years. He'd even been moderately successful, until a bull happened to his china shop.

It took a few moments of leaning against the worktop to regain his composure. His heart beat loud and inspired in his chest, and his breathing was far too fast. Running his fingers through his hair, Hux glanced in the small mirror by the lockers and made sure he looked acceptable. Collar straight. Hair in place. Mildly irritable expression. He could over-think himself into a stupor of self-loathing later.

It was business as usual by the time he ventured back out, walking at a reasonable pace, no hesitation or uncertainty in his steps. Hux was surprised to find Ren behind the counter, laughing with a customer as Cassie kept a watchful eye on the till. He looked - almost competent. He looked as though he belonged.

Hux realized with a start that Ren's anger had entirely vanished. That was – interesting, but he chose not to dwell on it. Tomorrow was the first Tuesday in March, and he had an entire storeroom of new releases to put out. He let Mitaka go early to catch his train home, and Ren of course didn't volunteer to stay. Long-suffering Cassandra helped to organize displays until Hux realized he was just moving piles of hardcovers from one table to another, preoccupied with an entirely new design.

The shop was busy as soon as Hux opened the next morning. Between sleeping poorly and running entirely on coffee, he didn't even notice when Ren clocked in for his mid-morning shift. Ren, however, made absolutely certain that Hux noticed him when he slid behind the second till. He was just to Hux's right, reaching over the counter for books and handing them back, taking cash and cards, wrapping up purchases and shunting them into Flagship logo bags.

Every time he raised his arm, Hux could see the four red lines he'd left there darkening and setting in.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

This, then, was the dream. Hux stood at parade rest before the gravesite, a woman draped in black beside him. The chaplain delivered his eulogy in Pashto, but Hux had never learned words like 'rest,' or 'peace.' The Union Jack draped heavy over the casket, and Hux wondered if he should say something. That had never been his father's flag.

A terrible banging issued from within the casket, shaking the flag to the ground. Hux looked around, but no one else seemed to have noticed. He had never served under that banner either, but he'd grown up under it and couldn't bear to see it crumpled in the dirt. The woman beside him started shouting, her fist in the air, and Hux winced at the sound rather than her words. The fact that his mother was long dead didn't seem to stop her tirade. Hux wanted to cover her mouth in embarrassment. Away at school, he'd learned distaste for everything that made her who she was – and that had once made him.

The shots rang out too soon. The chaplain continued to speak, unperturbed by the chaos erupting around him. The ground shook, the trees emptied themselves of leaves and Hux grabbed at one of the poles supporting the ugly green tent over the grave. It couldn't hold his weight, sliding forward in the grass which had suddenly turned to mud beneath his feet. Hux fell, his uniform covered in wet black stains. A field of empty chairs sank into the muck and beyond them, just outside the gates stood a solitary figure. The world outside the gates was solid, an ordinary street in an ordinary town. The figure remained obscure and yet somehow familiar. Hux stared, trying to force the details into resolution while he sank slowly into the earth, inhaling gravel and dirt -

Hux woke up coughing, desperate for the air already filling his lungs. The clock read 4:39 am. Seven years out of the Navy and it still felt like sleeping in.

 

Hux hated dreaming about his mother. He'd spent too much of his life distancing himself from her and the rest of her family to be dragged back into that pit. His father was just the asshole who knocked her up on shore leave and went back to the USS Absentee. Therapists had informed him that it was the chaos of his early life that spawned the violence in him, ruthless and cruel. It left him feared but friendless, and if not for his ability to fabricate innocence, it would have likely left him expelled. Repeatedly.

After everything went to hell in the desert, the Naval mandated counselors always wanted him to talk about her death. Her death, instead of all the others. Hux usually dodged the questions by talking about the relatives who took him in after the wreck. Therapists loved it when you talked about repressed homosexuality and a strict religious upbringing. They gave him shelter of a sort after the accident left him both motherless and homeless, and Hux was properly grateful for the basic necessities, but he was not grateful for his elder cousin's roaming hands. Hux always found it ironic that he was the one his uncle beat to rid Hux of his 'filthy affliction.' If his uncle had paid more attention to dear cousin Jack, he might not have ended up half dead in the retaining pond.

Despite Hux's sworn innocence, he soon found himself homeless for the second time. His social worker managed to contact his father, who managed to care just long enough to see Hux ensconced in the same boarding school he had attended as a boy. Hux took a seat on a plane, Jack earned a seat on the sunshine bus, and that was that.

His new life was across an ocean, but things worked out much the same, just in fancier clothes. Hux was necessarily ruthless, and cruel out of habit. Feared, again, but not entirely friendless this time. To his surprise, Hux found more than enough classmates willing to be held down and fucked by a tall, too skinny ginger. He was not gentle. It was never about affection. It was exactly what he wanted.

It hadn't kept resentment from simmering over the years. Years of being told he was put together wrong had only made him try harder to earn their disappointment. It was no one's business who he preferred to sleep with, but he delighted in making his anger everyone's problem. He owed a debt of gratitude to his military career, brief though it had been, for providing the discipline he needed to bring himself under control.

Hux tucked the bed sheets in at the corners and smoothed one hand across. Some habits just never broke.

A cup of coffee and 5 swift miles in the cold, pre-dawn air kicked his mind into enough clarity to face the rest of the day. The dream remained stubbornly lodged behind his eyes, caught in his throat and between his teeth. When he climbed the stairs back up to the loft, his mind on more coffee and a hot shower, the light on his phone was flashing. That could only mean one thing.

Hux swiped it open and listened to the voicemail with a grimace. Thanisson wasn't sick. Well, he probably _was_ sick, but less likely from a cold and more as a result of still being drunk. Hux should have known better than to schedule that lout on a Saturday morning. Hux thumbed through his contacts and picked the only other person who was guaranteed to be just as miserable.  


Ren knocked on the door frame instead of stepping into Hux's office. He looked just barely awake. His eyes were only half open, but at least he'd paid lip service to the dress code. Ren's dark blue shirt had buttons, and Hux supposed that was the most he could expect. He might be insolent and a bit wrinkled, but at least he was here. The dream still worried at his thoughts, and it took Ren picking up the line for Hux to realize that he simply didn't feel like being alone.

It was an odd realization, and one Hux chose not to examine.

“Is my number the only one in your phone?” Ren asked, and Hux attributed the added layer of surliness in his tone to the early hour. “Or are you actually sadistic?”

Hux gave him a level stare instead of responding immediately. Sadistic wasn't the right word, not anymore, but he wasn't going to supply the one he’d prefer. His eyes flicked to Ren’s wrist and back before he realized it. “I assure you, I would much rather spend my Saturday morning with someone else on my payroll,” Hux said. “But you were the only one unfortunate enough to answer your phone.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.

Ren pressed his forehead against the lintel. “Duly noted,” he muttered. Hux briefly worried that Ren would start ignoring his calls, and then remembered just how badly Ren needed the money. He could call Ren at one in the morning on a Sunday and he would probably show up. Of course, what he would do with the idiot at that hour –

Hux rubbed at his eyes beneath a pair of sturdy reading glasses.

“Is everything in order?” he asked, the inside of his glasses now aggravatingly smudged. Hux knew, of course, that the entire store was immaculate, registers balanced with perfect change, the windows streak-free, and the floor swept clean. He had seen to it personally before closing the night before. It was a scripted exchange, but it usually proved sufficient to kick Ren out of his office and onto the sales floor.

“It's fine,” Ren answered, running a hand through his hair to keep it out of his face. Hux narrowed his eyes. It was the wrong answer, and Ren knew it.

Hux pulled off his glasses with one hand. “Did I ask you if it was fine?”

“It's fucking spotless, Hux, you know that.” He leaned his hip against the door frame, hair falling back across his face, and Hux's eyes tracked the movement. Ren rummaged in his pockets, coming up with a few coins and a half squashed peppermint candy.

“It's around your wrist,” Hux noted, and Ren glanced down to where a hair elastic hid amongst a mess of faded red and black bracelets. Hux wondered if he ever took them off. They were technically against the dress code, but Hux let it go and he wasn't entirely sure why. Ren pulled back his hair and gave Hux his usual mocking salute before heading out onto the floor.

“Since the store is 'fine',” Hux said quietly, knowing Ren would have to strain to hear the words. “I assume that means you don't have anything better to do. Make me a coffee.” He hadn't scheduled Ren at the coffee bar yet, and this seemed like a reasonable test.

Ren slouched, one hand braced against the wall. “A macchiato,” Hux clarified. Anyone could brew a pot of coffee. God, he hoped Ren could brew a pot of coffee.

 

Hux had just entered the last of Friday's backup receipts into the backup spreadsheet and was carefully reviewing the totals when he heard a crash from the other side of the store. A yelp followed, accompanied by a loud thump, and then another. His chair spun backward, nearly smacking into the wall as he shot out of his office. Hux nearly ran down the hallway and emerged through the paneled door to the coffee bar.

He arrived in time to see Ren kick the chrome-face cabinets below the espresso machine, leaving a streak of black rubber from his trainers. Hux saw two other marks on the next cabinet down, but thankfully nothing had dented. One of the portafilters lay on the tiles, wet grounds spilling out in an arc. A pitcher of milk teetered unsteadily on the cement worktop, and Hux grabbed it before it could fall.

“What the hell did you do?” he demanded. Ren stared at him in silence, his face a thundercloud. Cheeks flushed, he breathed hard, mouth opening and closing without forming any words. Hux grabbed his forearm and stilled at the angry red line covering the back of Ren's left hand. Hux turned sharply, pushing open the door leading back into the hall and marching quickly to the break room. Ren staggered along behind, Hux dragging him ungently by his arm.

He turned on the faucet and shoved Ren's hand under a stream of cold water, drawing a grunt of pain at the contact. Hux pushed the pile of mismatched bands up Ren's arm as if they were a sleeve and felt a crisscross of raised lines beneath his thumb. Ren went still, and Hux felt oddly as if he should apologize. He brushed his thumb along them slowly without realizing it while rotating Ren's wrist beneath the stream. His focus remained on the burn, knowing the rush of cold against it was punishing.

Ren jumped when Hux turned the faucet off with a smack from his palm. Still holding Ren loosely by his wrist, he unhooked a large first aid kit from the wall and rummaged through it for antibiotic cream and plasters. It was nearly out, papercuts and cleaning mishaps taking their toll.

“Sit down,” he ordered, motioning to a chair. Ren fell ungracefully into it, drawing a metallic squeal from its joints. Hux twitched at the sound. He pulled out another chair and uncapped the tube of cream, spreading a light coating across the burn. Ren shivered and tried to pull away, but Hux held firm. He didn't care if it hurt, Hux refused to be any more culpable in this fiasco than he already was.

He drew his fingers back long enough to tear open a large plaster and smooth it down over the burn, taking Ren's hand once again to examine it in the light. “How did this happen?” he asked, looking up when no answer seemed to be forthcoming. Ren's eyes were trained on Hux's thumb, still moving across his skin. Hux knew, objectively, that this wasn't appropriate workplace etiquette, but Ren's fingers curled softly around his own and seemed in no hurry to pull away.

“Ren?” Hux questioned, louder this time. “Did you hear what I asked?”

“Er,” Ren fumbled, looking down at the floor. “Not really, no.”

“I asked how in the hell you did this to yourself,” Hux said, turning the question into a reprimand. He pressed down on the bandage and Ren gasped at the sudden pain.

“I just,” Ren stammered. “The pitcher was boiling and there was steam everywhere -” he broke off, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“Do you know how difficult it is to actually burn yourself on that machine?” Hux asked, a scathing bite to the words. It would be easier if he just pretended to be angry. “What did you do, stick your hand under the wand?”

“Possibly?” Ren looked up at Hux, his expression appropriately contrite. Hux sighed, trying very hard to rewire his brain's immediate response. Ren's eyes were wide and dark and he bit his lip, as if actively trying to throw Hux off balance. Maybe he was.

“Have you ever actually used an espresso machine?” Hux injected a sigh into the question.

Ren scrunched up his face, squirming a little in his seat. “I've seen other people do it.”

“What other skills have you only observed?” Hux demanded, a very real anger beginning to surface at having been tricked. Everyone lied on their resume, but that didn't mean he had to like it, or reward that sort of behavior.

Ren made a soft, strangled sound in his throat. Hux refused to look away just because Ren had misinterpreted a perfectly reasonable question. “Alphabetizing? Because you're actually shit at that, but for some reason I still haven't sacked you. What's else? Let me guess, cleaning up after yourself?”

Hux's fingers contracted and Ren jerked his hand away. His foot snagged on the thin metal legs of the chair as he stood, and he stumbled to right himself. He turned his back to Hux and grabbed a broom with his uninjured hand before stalking angrily through the doorway.

Hux gave an angry huff and cleaned up the kit, following after Ren once everything was sorted. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as Ren swept up a fine layer of ground espresso. He tried not to calculate the cost in ruined goods.

He walked the floor for several minutes, convincing himself that the books hadn't deserted their shelves overnight and run amok. He found a small wooden 'Closed' sign beneath one of the registers and returned to the coffee bar where, to his surprise, Ren had done an admirable job of correcting his mistakes. Hux placed the sign on the brushed chrome counter, briefly worrying over the clash of materials before deciding to leave it be.

“Come in early tomorrow,” Hux said, a slight edge of command in his tone. Ren lifted his head from polishing the sink to shoot him a tired glare. “I'll teach you how to use the machine properly.” Hux heard a sigh from behind him as he moved to unlock the front doors, but he was certain Ren would show up as ordered.  
  


If Ren kept yawning, Hux was going to stick a muzzle on him. The idea held a certain appeal, in fact, but Hux willed himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Yawning counts as speaking,” Hux said, attempting to stifle the urge himself. Ren had been instructed not to speak during the tutorial, as Hux was fairly certain it would just end up in yelling, and it was too goddamn early for that.

They'd already spent a solid fifteen minutes just on grinding the damn coffee and tamping it down properly. Now Ren was showing his ignorance in the face of precision engineering. He struggled to fit the filter into the machine head so it would latch, and Hux smacked his hand. Ren's lips tightened, but he remained silent and tried again. So far, Hux had avoided his left hand out of respect for the previous day's injury, but that didn't mean he would leave off from appropriate discipline.

Besides, it was fun.

This time the filter gave a satisfactory click and Ren managed to lock it in place. Hux nodded, and waited for him to press the correct button. Ren stared at his options and Hux tapped his foot against the ceramic tile. After another moment of deliberation, he made the correct choice. It was all Hux could do not to pat him on the head and tell him he'd been a good boy. This had possibly been a terrible idea.

Hux would admit to being a bit wary at the prospect of Ren using the steamer again, but he had to learn sometime. He settled for hovering just over Ren's shoulder to prevent any further catastrophes before they could happen. Ren was only an inch or two taller, but his frame was larger, and Hux had to stretch a bit to find the right position. When Ren nearly boiled the milk, Hux stepped in and flicked down the dial. He covered Ren's hand on the pitcher, guiding him to pour some of the milk out into the sink before returning to the machine. To his credit, Ren didn't flinch or pull away, but allowed Hux to take the lead.

“Cut the steam back on,” he instructed, and Ren complied without hesitation. Hux could hear the pattern of Ren's breaths alter as he guided the pitcher up and down, finding the ideal depth just below the surface. Ren didn't move until Hux urged him to do so, a full head of frothed cream rising to the top. Hux sat the pitcher on the worktop and moved to Ren's left, selecting a white ceramic mug from a hook above the machine. His confidence bolstered by Ren's acquiescence so far, Hux wrapped his fingers around Ren's left wrist. Ren drew in a deep breath, but didn't protest, allowing Hux to guide his hand to the full shot glasses beneath the drip. Ren carefully poured each one into the mug on the counter. He paused with his fingers on the pitcher's handle, clearly waiting for instructions.

Something warm curled in Hux's stomach and he resisted the urge to slide his fingers down the length of Ren's forearm, instead settling his hand over Ren's on the handle. He lifted the carafe and tilted it slightly over the mug, swirling a small amount of milk over the dark liquid inside.

“Now take the spoon,” he instructed, nodding toward a large silver utensil in a wire rack. Ren did as asked, scooping up some of the foam and layering it in the mug without being told. Hux nodded his approval over Ren's shoulder. He smelled like cheap soap and something strangely herbal. It should have been a hideous combination, but it wasn't. Hux dimly registered a warning bell ringing from too far away to be heeded.

“There you go,” Hux said softly, all but whispering in Ren's ear. “That wasn't so hard, now was it?” Hux directed the carafe toward the sink, and Ren turned his head to follow the movement. He seemed to be waiting for something, and Hux suspected it wasn't further instruction. He wanted to trace the line of Ren's jaw before sliding his fingers gently along his throat. He wanted to slide one hand over Ren's hip and continue down to feel if he was hard. Wanted to see just how much he could get away with and – fuck.

The haze began to clear and with it came a terrible realization. The boldness of his own thoughts shocked Hux into pulling away. He was Ren's boss, for chrissakes. Hux wasn't sure exactly how he'd let a simple training turn into – whatever the hell that had been. He lifted his hand from the pitcher and took a step back.

“That,” Hux said briskly, “is how you make a reasonable cappuccino. When I ask you to make me a coffee, I mean a dry macchiato. Look it up.” Ren stood frozen to the spot, one hand gripping the edge of the sink. Hux smiled and picked up the mug from the worktop to take it with him. “Now stick the carafe back in the fridge so you don't waste the milk. Open in five.”

Halfway to the front doors, Hux threw a glance back over his shoulders. Ren still hadn't moved. _Good_.

 

With supervision, Ren eventually learned how to make a proper coffee. With effort, Hux eventually regained some of his professionalism. Weeks turned into months and the game – for Hux had begun to think of it in those terms – played out at a glacial pace.

It was late May and raining again when Hux began to notice certain things about Ren's appearance. Not the t-shirts with cryptic logos he wore beneath his button downs. Not the way his stupid skinny jeans hugged his hips. Not the way Ren tied back his ridiculous hair, even though it looked better tousled and falling in his face. That last one was a difficult for Hux to admit, but it was the truth. He still wasn't going to let Ren come to work that way.

No, what he began to notice after a while were the same things that had embarrassed him as a teenager. Hux watched Ren shelving stock, sat in a crouch that emphasized holes in his trainers. He alternated the lace-ups with a pair of scuffed and worn black boots that even a solid polishing wouldn't fix. The shirts Ren wore to work were getting a bit faded, and eventually Hux realized that he only had three of them.

It was for the sake of the store's image that Hux did it, really. He couldn't have his employees coming in looking rumpled and unkempt. It ran entirely counter to brand. That Ren came in half-asleep or hung over was bad enough. Hux couldn't abide an untidy appearance on top of a disorganized mind. It was only going to be one shirt, but when Hux saw the way the black pinpoint oxford fit across Ren's shoulders, the way the side seams hugged Ren's hips as they slid over his jeans, Hux ordered three more. He left them hanging in Ren's locker to avoid an uncomfortable conversation, and Ren assimilated the shirts into his wardrobe without a word. If Hux occasionally thought about slowly buttoning them up, smoothing out the collar and teaching Ren how to properly wear a tie, well. It wasn't hurting anyone.

It was a few more weeks before Hux replaced Ren's trainers. The left one seemed to be held together by safety pins, and the sole was peeling off the bottom of the right. Hux supposed he could have insisted that Ren wear wingtips or captoes, something professional, but in truth he didn't actually mind the canvas lace-ups. They worked with his (stupid) skinny jeans and generally apathetic worldview. Ren still wore the boots held together with electrical tape for his commute while keeping the new trainers in his locker. One night Hux spotted the old lace-ups in the dumpster where they belonged and smiled.

Hux was surprised at the change in Ren since March. He smiled more. His hair wasn't greasy. He still slouched, but he didn't curl in on himself the way he had before, as if trying to avoid the notice of everyone around him. Several of the ratty bracelets on his wrist had been traded out for new, though the colors remained the same. Hux still couldn't bring himself to insist that he remove the red ones. They didn't fit the code. They were distracting. They were a spot of unexpected color in his day, and at some point, Hux had gotten used to them.

Despite his occasional flares of temper, the rest of the staff had claimed Ren as one of their own. Mitaka didn't even cringe around him anymore, and there was a lot to be said for that. Hux usually forgot Mitaka was on shift at all until he accidentally startled him into dropping something or hitting the wrong button. Mitaka wasn't allowed to work the coffee bar for a reason.

Thanisson held out the longest, as Hux would have expected. He approved of Marc's literary elitism, but outside of work he was all purple corduroy trousers, Atari shirts, and stupid hats. Hux had trouble understanding how he could condescend to anyone about their life choices.

Hux stopped outside the break room one evening, his hand on the door to open it when he heard voices from inside. Gratitude didn't seem to come easily to Thanisson, but he was trying.

“Look, I – thank you, you know. For helping 'Taka out like that.”

“That guy was an ass.” Hux heard Ren's voice, soft instead of angry. “He doesn't deserve that. I mean no one really does, but – yeah. You know.”

Hux had only made the mistake of yelling at Mitaka once. He'd piled the shelving cart too high with books and then lost his balance, tripping over it and knocking the entire thing to the ground. Pages were crumpled, jackets were torn, and customers were understandably startled. Hux had been buried in an expense report when the sound rattled through his nerves like a peal of thunder. His pen left a diagonal line across the page, nearly tearing straight through.

He restrained himself from picking Mitaka up by the scruff of his neck and shaking him, but it was a near thing. He was crouched down, scrabbling frantically at the books scattered across the aisle. He flinched when Hux walked over, and the fear evident in every line of Mitaka's body was what eventually bled the anger dry.

Hux didn't know Mitaka's story, but he could fill in the blanks. He knew from experience how easy it was to let the fear win. Hux knew that sort of anxiety, had lived with it every day for more than ten years. He'd learned to cover it up first with anger, then false bravado, and eventually a veneer of calm disinterest.

Books had always been a source of safety and calm for him, and he had seen the same sort of reverence for the printed word in Mitaka. That was what prompted Hux to hire him, along with the quiet voice and clear deference to authority. Books were what got Hux through difficult years in his youth, difficult times at sea, and through all the years when money was supposed to be making him happy. If he'd only been out to earn a living, Hux would have kept his hot shot status at First In Order, living for drinks with the partners and one-night stands with clients.

It was good for him really, putting books in the right hands, and maybe someday learning to repair them when the world had been too rough. If Hux could also give his employees a brief sense of calm beneath his roof, well, that had to be worth something. People weren’t nearly so easy to repair as loose bindings and scuffed corners, and Hux doubted he would ever be good at that - or if he even wanted to be.   


	3. Chapter 3

This was always the dream. Hux stood behind rows of folding chairs pressed awkwardly into uneven ground. The lines were off kilter and it made his skin crawl. His father gave a speech from a podium raised so high he had to crane his neck just to see. His hand was a raised fist; his tone was a disapproving finger wagged at everyone in attendance.

Hux looked down and realized he had forgotten to wear his uniform. Tall, unkempt grass brushed over his trainers, whispering across the holes in his jeans. Perhaps that was why his father was disappointed. He'd lost his uniform, his rank, and gone with it was his purpose.

A shot rang out and the crowd were on their feet, shouting and hurling wadded up programs printed with hymns. Music poured out from the ruined pages, each collision the strike of a broken bell. His father crumpled and fell, a spray of blood suspended like a halo where his head had been.

Hux watched with calm disinterest. A sound from his left drew his gaze to a figure stood at the gates of the cemetery. Messy black hair framed a face so familiar it made him strange. Hux watched as he pulled one earbud free. A sound carried impossibly from from the tiny speakers, and the sound was his name.

Jackson stood suddenly beside him, his uniform sharp, a purple heart hanging from his lapel. “Hell of a day, isn't it?” His face collapsed before Hux could respond, skin melting off the bone. He woke up to the smell of lilies and burning hair.

 

Hux procrastinated leaving for the evening. It was technically one of his nights off, and the shop was in capable hands. Still, as was his habit, Hux walked the floors and looked over shoulders to make sure everything proceeded according to his standards. In the way of habits, it was far easier to continue on as you always had.

“You're coming to the show tonight, right?” Amy didn't exactly sneak up on him, but he wasn't expecting her question, either.

Hux looked back over his shoulder. “What show is that?”

Amy huffed out a breath, and at her height it ruffled his hair. “Kylo's show. At KanjiClub?”

Hux blinked. “I didn't know about it,” he said truthfully. He gave a paperback left out on a table the evil eye and tried to think of an excuse. “I doubt Ren would want to see his boss outside work.”

Amy fixed him with a disappointed glare. She and Ren got on like a house on fire and always had. Of course he’d want to see her at a show - he’d probably want to see any of them except Thanisson, bizarre musical elitist that he was. “We'll save you a seat,” she said on her way out the back, as if he hadn't said no at all.

When Hux finally left the floor after returning a few wayward books to their homes, he saw a light blue flier taped to his door. There were two other names on the sheet beside Ren's, animals and adjectives that made absolutely no sense. One of them seemed to be reciting poetry. The show started at eight o'clock, and if he hurried, he could probably make it on time. Possibly. If he had the inclination to go at all. He realized, staring at Ren’s name on the bill, that he wanted to hear Ren play, very much in fact. He just didn't want to be – well, recognized.

Hux coughed, as though someone might have heard his thoughts out loud. He supposed he could use an evening out. Maybe if he just hid at the back, things wouldn’t be awkward. Ten minutes later he was out the door, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a DC United t-shirt underneath. He'd mussed up his hair a bit, trying to look less like himself. Hux wasn't up for dealing with the fallout if Amy turned out to be wrong.

 

A few hours and several ginger ales later, Hux was quietly impressed. He hadn't really known what to expect, having only a passing knowledge of Ren’s former band from employee gossip and a google search.  _ KNIGHTS  _ had been local stars, even briefly signed to an indie label before they fell apart, citing irreconcilable differences. A trail of police reports from their manager seemed to point a finger squarely at Ren, and Hux wasn’t particularly surprised. 

Now, though, Hux was seeing a different side of his talent, in both sound and demeanor. Ren channeled blues and rock influence into something oddly personal and far more reserved than Hux would have thought him capable. Still, some of his songs had the crowd on their feet in an instant, and Hux had to struggle to see. 

The club was small and sweltering, but the acoustics were surprisingly good. By sticking to the back, Hux had managed to avoid the usual suspects clustered around a pair of raised tables near the stage. The cover charge was obnoxious, the parking fee even worse, and someone had, in fact, read very bad poetry, but it had all been worth it for the look of peace on Ren's face when he sang. He kept his eyes closed or focused somewhere above the crowd as he plucked the strings on the guitar. It was disarming and strangely intense. Hux wanted to file it away and keep it.

He slipped out while Ren was greeting his fans by the stage, smiling and laughing easily. Now if he could only navigate in reverse the winding mess of streets that had tied his GPS in knots, Hux could call the evening a success. He was trying to remember which way he was supposed to go from the roundabout connecting Guavian Way with Balatik Circle when a terrible sound threw his mental map into chaos. Hux glanced down the alleyway to his right and saw the stage door shuddering on its hinges. Ren stumbled out, off balance, about to lose his grip on an amp.

Hux wasn't really sure how he got there in time to grab the box before it smashed against the asphalt, but there he was, lifting one side while Ren steadied the other. Their eyes met over the stippled tolex and Ren blinked, as if not sure Hux was really there. Hux glanced toward the waiting van and Ren nodded. It really didn't take two people to manage it, and Ren safely stowed it away while Hux stood awkwardly to one side.

Ren straightened his back and knocked his head against the top of the van, cursing beneath his breath. Hux wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or reach out to stroke his hair. It began to occur to Hux that this entire venture might have been a terrible idea. He'd had rather a lot of those lately.

“Cass said she saw you hiding out near the bar, but I didn't actually believe her.” Ren rubbed at a spot on the top of his head and Hux leaned back against the van. “You must be a pretty big fan of Grizzly Diver.”

“I have all their EPs.” Hux assured him.

“That's an accomplishment, since all they've got is two tracks on Bandcamp.” Ren smirked, a slight challenge in the set of his lips.

“You obviously haven't heard their demo,  _ Flying with Sharks _ .”

That one earned him a laugh as Ren leaned back against the bricks. Hux tried to memorize the way he brushed a curl of hair behind his ear, one foot balanced on the asphalt, the other slanted up against the wall. The glow from the streetlamp lit his face like a photo in a gallery. It was one of those moments Hux knew he should leave well enough alone, but something about Ren continued to override his better judgment.

Then Ren smiled, and fuck if it wasn't devastating in this light. Hux told himself over and over to get a hold of himself before he did something stupid. In the way of things repeated once too often, it was becoming easier to ignore all the time. His mouth was half open, _Let me buy you a drink_ ready to fall off his tongue when Ren thankfully interrupted.

“Hey, um.” Ren stumbled, clearing his throat with a quiet cough. “Thanks for coming out tonight. And for not telling me you'd be here,” he finished with a bit of a wince. He looked embarrassed, one hand on the back of his neck.

“Would that have made you nervous?” Hux asked, and now he was seriously considering taping his mouth shut.

Ren looked up at him through the mess of hair falling in his face, then brushed it back out of the way. “I gotta get the rest of my stuff packed up,” he said, gesturing back inside the club. “I'm borrowing the van from a buddy of mine, and he needs it in the morning, so, I'm just going to – “

Hux caught the movement from behind the van a split second before Ren. The man wasn't as tall as Ren, but he was broad, and the punch to his gut hit Ren completely by surprise. He fell back, the wind knocked out of his lungs, and Hux saw red.

The man had barely gotten out the words 'owe' and 'money' when Hux threw the first punch. He staggered back and Ren made use of the opportunity, planting his knee in the thug's solar plexus. He stomped on the man's foot, and aimed a powerful uppercut at his chin when he looked down in pain.

The assailant recovered quickly and aimed a kick at Ren's knee. Ren buckled, and Hux saw the glint of metal on fat fingers as he swung down for another blow. Hux stepped in and followed up with another punch that snapped the man's head back. Ren shoved him hard and he fell, sprawled out on the ground.

Then Ren started kicking him. He struck out over and over while the man grunted in pain and spat out blood. The veil of his own anger began to dissipate, and Hux yelled out for him to stop. Ren refused to relent. Hux reached out to pull him back and Ren rounded on him, eyes wild, his fist balled up for another strike. Hux caught the blow and turned Ren's strength against him, twisting his arm around behind his back. Hux shoved him up against the bricks, a hand hard on his shoulder joining the other that held Ren's arm in a vice.

“You don't want to do this,” he said with a growl, pulling Ren's arm tighter across his back. Ren struggled, cursing and spitting, aiming kicks that never connected. Hux heard the assailant pick himself up and listened as he ran away.

“Calm down,” he ordered sharply when Ren continued to fight. He stilled in Hux's grip and very gradually his muscles began to relax. Hux held him motionless while their breathing slowed, until it matched, and still he didn't back away. Hux slid his thumb along the skin just above his hold, and Ren drew in a quick breath.

Hux didn't want to let go. He'd never had anyone so completely under his control and it was intoxicating. Time seemed to stretch as he lingered in Ren's space, neither of them saying a word. Hux watched a drop of sweat travel down the side of Ren's face. It would have been easy to reach out and wipe it away, but instead Hux pulled back, slowly releasing his grip.

“You can move now.” Hux spoke softly, his voice nearly a whisper in the warm night air. Ren shifted slightly but otherwise remained still. Hux could almost see the humiliation riding his shoulders. “Will you be all right getting home?” he asked, and Ren gave a slight nod, his eyes closed.

“Yeah,” he answered, his breath catching on the word. A shudder ran through him and Hux pressed his hand lightly between Ren's shoulder blades.

“Shh,” Hux soothed, taking his hand away and replacing it with the knuckles of his middle and index fingers, stroking softly along Ren's spine. Ren made a soft, surprised sound and Hux let his hand fall away before walking out of the alley without a backward glance.

 

Hux didn't even try to pretend that things hadn't changed. The air between the two of them carried a charge that left the other employees whispering and occasionally outright staring. The fact that Ren showed up for work the next day with a scrape across his cheek and bruises on his arm didn't help matters. The office poll seemed divided as to whether they'd fought or fucked, and Hux really didn't feel like enlightening them. He still wasn't exactly sure what happened, and he'd been there.

Hux became more mindful of the tasks he assigned Ren during his shift, particularly before opening and after close of business. It was an extremely ill-advised game, trying to see just what he could get away with. Hux gave Ren far more oversight than anyone else on the staff, and he'd never really stopped standing too close.

Ren had just finished cleaning the coffee bar when Hux decided to inspect his work. The floor was swept mostly clean, the worktop neatly arranged, the stainless steel sink shining properly under the lights. It would have been good enough for anyone else.

“You're not finished yet.” Hux folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot against the floor.

“Are you kidding me?” Ren asked, tying shut a bag of used flannels for the linen service to pick up in the morning. He glanced up at Hux and confusion slipped into something … else.

“You've left the sink dirty,” Hux sniffed, peering into the basin with displeasure. He straightened back up and ran his hand along the top of the espresso machine. “I want to see the chrome shine before you leave.”

“It's as clean as it's going to get,” Ren shot back, clearly testing the limits of Hux's lenience.

“It's unacceptable,” Hux pronounced, radiating disappointment.

“So clean it yourself,” Ren challenged, unlacing the stained apron and heading for the paneled door.

Before his brain had time to engage, Hux reached out and smacked him sharply on the ass. He froze, a spike of fear running through him at the potential consequences of what he'd just done. It was nothing compared to what happened at the bar, but this time it was on his property and on the clock.

Ren stopped mid-stride, and Hux waited for the ball to drop. Glancing back over his shoulder, Ren smirked. “I'm pretty sure that counts as harassment,” he said slowly, his tone sly and mocking.

Hux considered responding with  _ You're the one who provoked me, you insolent little prick _ , but stopped the words before they could leave his mouth.  _ Those jeans should be illegal _ , his mind carried on, and Hux bit down on his tongue. He settled for raising one eyebrow and pretending he wasn't bothered. “So file a suit,” he said, knowing full well that Ren would do nothing of the sort.

Unless, of course, Ren had set the whole thing up from the beginning. His frugal approach to running Flagship didn't obscure the fact that he was reasonably well off. Hux had never been the public face of First In Order, but he had occasionally ended up on the society pages. A lawsuit against him would certainly target the business, and then where would he be?

If it wasn't money, Hux knew the consequences could be a great deal worse.

Ren took his time turning around, a smile still flirting with his lips. “As tempting as that sounds,” he said, “I think I'll let you off the hook this time.” Hux held in a sigh of relief. “You do have to promise me one thing, though,” Ren added after a moment. 

“What's that, then?” Hux asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Ren leaned in closer than Hux was comfortable with, and he jammed his hands in his pockets to keep them out of further trouble. Ren lingered a moment, his skin smelling like dark coffee and sweat, and Hux let his eyes drift shut. When Ren spoke it was soft, his breath hot against Hux's ear. “Promise you'll do it again sometime.”

Hux's eyes flew open wide, and he stared resolutely at the opposite wall. His brain stalled out, his mouth too dry to respond. Ren drew back and had the gall to wink before tossing the apron over one shoulder and disappearing through the door.

Hux pulled his hands from his pockets and gripped the edge of the worktop behind him. He let out a long breath that ended in a single word. “Fuck.” His dreams that night had nothing to do with dress blues and everything to do with the sound Ren's jeans made against his palm.

  
  
When summer hit, it was relentless. The heat barely dropped after sundown, and the air was humid enough to doom the city to a slow death by drowning. Hux leaned back at his desk after close, propping his feet up on a small metal chair. His sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned, he knew he looked a proper wreck. It had been a long day, full of poorly behaved children set loose from their classrooms, and by the time nine o'clock finally arrived Hux had decided the hell with appearances.

The back of the shop rejected all advances by the air conditioning, and Hux raised a window to let in a weak breeze. The books were put to bed for the night, the staff sent off to mind their own business, and Hux was at last blissfully left alone to his thoughts. It wasn't much of a surprise when they turned to Ren. The softness of his lips, the way they might swell and bruise if bitten. The way his fingers plucked the strings of a guitar, delicate in a way that belied his natural strength. It made Hux think about what else those talented hands might do.

They'd reached an odd sort of stalemate, moving past flirtation and into the blurred territory of indiscretion. It wasn't a question of wanting. He approached each shift they shared with a mix of dread and anticipation, aroused but still too cautious, his hand in the shower never leaving him satisfied.

He tapped the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray he kept hidden in a drawer, and started when he saw the figure in his doorway. Ren leaned against the lintel, faded red t-shirt riding up above his low slung jeans. Hux knew he was staring but oh, in that moment, he was beautiful. He let a thin stream of smoke out through his lips, watching Ren's eyes travel down from his lips to the small patch of exposed skin at his throat.

“You know that's gross, right?” Ren asked abruptly and Hux blinked, afraid Ren had somehow heard his thoughts and taken objection.

“What?” he replied, answering a question with a question in self-defense.

“Smoking,” Ren replied, flicking his eyes back up to meet Hux stare for stare. “Can I have one?”

Hux gave a short, exasperated noise and held the pack out to Ren, slipping one above the others. Ren took it with a curious look, rolling the tightly packed brown paper between his fingers. “What are they?”

“A particular blend from Pakistan,” Hux said, reaching for his lighter. “You can get them just about anywhere but the States, actually. I have – some friends, you might say, in Customs. They're somewhat relaxing,” he added as a slight warning, and watched a corner of Ren's mouth turn up. Hux wasn't sure if he wanted to slap him or find a more engaging way to wipe away the smirk. Maybe he could have one right after the other.

Disappointingly, Ren turned away, running his fingers along the door frame as he slipped out of the room. “You're going to need a light for that,” Hux called after him, leaning to the side to follow Ren's progress.

“You've got one,” Ren answered. “And we're going outside.”

Hux shot a brief glance up to the ceiling, shaking his head, before grabbing the pack and heading after him. Ren had sprawled across the wide, sloping steps built from the same aging brick as the building itself. He hadn't left Hux much room, and Hux shoved him over slightly as he sat down. He dug a tall, silver-plated lighter from his pocket and held it out, closing his fingers tightly when Ren attempted to take it. He struck the flint, and Ren leaned in close to singe the tip of the cigarette in his mouth. Hux smelled the earthy scent as Ren blew out a short puff of smoke. He considered taking the cigarette from Ren's mouth and making him watch as it slowly burned away.

Hux laid back instead, resting his elbows against the brick. He'd put in orange lights helmed with steel above the parking lot so the illumination filtering up through his windows wouldn't keep him awake. It should have made the scene surreal, but the soft glow had become a comfort to him over the past few years. Somewhere in the back of his mind Hux knew that even leaving his office had been a bad idea, but he pushed the thought away. It had been a long day, a long week, and as long as he didn't do anything completely stupid, Hux figured he would be all right.

“Why were you in Pakistan?” Ren asked, shifting slightly on the stairs to face him. It took Hux a moment to connect his question to the cigarettes.

“It was just a staging ground,” Hux replied. “For the attack on Kandahar,” he added at Ren's odd expression. He figured even an American would have heard the name of one of the largest cities in Afghanistan on the news, but perhaps not. “There's always a lot of trade around military bases, especially in vice.”

“Kandahar airfield? I didn't know you you went IA,” Ren said with some surprise. Hux looked at him in surprise. “I took a lot of military history before I quit,” he said by way of explanation, with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“It was a chance to get off the damn boat for a while,” Hux explained. Being an Army augmentee had sounded brilliant when he’d first heard about it. If he’d had any idea - well, he still might have chosen to leave the ship. He just would have had better timing. 

“Sounds like a big risk,” Ren said, the smirk back on his lips.

“Forgive me for choosing to die in the desert instead of trapped on a ship with 6,000 other people.” A shudder ran through him at the thought. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux caught Ren reach out, then draw his arm back.

“No, I meant,” Ren fumbled. “You’re a very calculated, um, risk-taker.” He might have been blushing and Hux twigged on quickly. “I'm just surprised you ended up on the front lines.”

“Every engagement seemed to be on one front or another, at the time,” Hux said. “I was tasked for recon, but -” Hux snapped his mouth shut, his chest suddenly tight. If there was one thing he didn't want to talk about with Ren, it was a casualty report. Not tonight, not ever.

Seeking a distraction, Hux reached across and took the cigarette from Ren's mouth, drawing in a deep drag. He couldn't miss the way Ren watched him, his eyes locked on Hux's lips. Depriving Ren of something he obviously enjoyed had been too tempting, and definitely served to derail the conversation.

“I hadn't seen my father for three years before he died.” Hux said, holding the cigarette out between two fingers. Ren's thumb brushed against his knuckle when he took it back. It was yet another risk to bring up the funeral, but this might be the only chance he had to find out if his nagging suspicion was correct. “The service was miserable. It was almost too windy to keep my hat on, and the flag kept trying to blow away.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Ren said, then stumbled around an attempt to take it back. “I mean, I remember you telling me about it, not, uh. Because that would be weird.”

“It’s all right,” Hux said with a small smile. “I remember you, too.”

Ren's mouth opened in surprise. “You never said anything!”

“It took me a while to make the connection,” Hux admitted. It was a much better way of saying  _ You grew up in the town where my father died.  _ It was definitely better than saying  _ I've apparently been dreaming about you for two years _ . “I never mentioned it because there was no reason for you to remember.” He shot Ren a wary glance before continuing. “Besides, I thought it might sound a bit creepy.”

“You know why I came in to get an application?” Ren asked, his voice a good deal steadier.

“Because you needed a job?” Hux replied with some amusement.

“Because I saw you,” Ren said, and  _ oh _ . “I mean, yeah, I was desperate for work but you were talking to Phasma, and I remembered her too because – ” Ren looked embarrassed. “She was with you at the graveside. I thought she was your wife.”

Hux had to chuckle at that. “She'd have your balls just for suggesting it.”

“Duly noted,” Ren said, in all seriousness.

“That's really why you came in?” Hux still couldn't quite believe that this – all of this chaos– rested on whim and a very good memory for details.

“I knew I didn't have a chance.” Ren shrugged. “Honestly, I just wanted to see if it was you.” He laughed, and Hux's brain spun its wheels. “God, you hated me. You hated me so much, just for walking in the door.”

“You looked like a drowned cat,” Hux said defensively.

“I felt like one, too,” Ren said. “I don't think I'd had a good meal for two days, but then –” he cut off the sentence mid-stream.

“Then what?”

“Ames might've slipped me an espresso. And a couple of biscotti.” Ren looked up nervously.

Hux shook his head. “I'm glad someone did,” he said, surprised to realize that he meant it. He wouldn't have let it stand if he'd seen it happen, but he found that in retrospect he couldn’t fault Amy for her charity.

It felt strange having a civilized conversation with Ren. That night at the club had shown him just how dangerous it was to level the playing field between them, dispensing with the rigid hierarchy keeping them both in check. It still wasn't a normal conversation by any means, but smoke filled his lungs and a hazy sort of desire filled his head and Hux seemed to have left his better judgment on his desk.

“Do you know why I hired you?” Hux asked, staring out across the car park. “Well, why I kept you on.”

“Because I was too poor to quit?” Hux turned to frown at him. “What?” Ren laughed. “You make a hobby out of running people off.”

“That's not why,” Hux said, not bothering to dispute Ren's other comment. “Despite everything the world's thrown at you, you never gave up. Academia wasn't the right path for you, so you reinvented yourself, started a band, toured the country.” Hux decided not to mention the band's disintegration as it might be a sore spot. “You chose to stay in the city and apparently all but starve to live on your own terms, rather than going home and admitting defeat. Drowned cat or not, I respected that.” Hux regarded Ren with a level gaze.

“How did you -” Ren trailed off, his confusion somehow deepening at Hux's next words.

“I did your background check, I know your legal name.”  _ And I may have looked you up on the internet, _ Hux thought but did not say aloud. “I actually heard you with  _ KNIGHTS _ once,” Hux said, shaking his head. The venue had been horrible, the audience rowdy, and he'd honestly had no idea at the time who was on stage because he couldn't see them. “I like your solo work better,” Hux confessed.

“Yeah?” Ren said, smiling now. “I think I do, too.”

He'd hated Ren, yes, but not because he stumbled in out of the storm dragging his mess behind him. No, Hux had hated him because he weighed too little for his large frame, because his hair was wet and plastered across his face, because rain was dripping down his cheeks. Because those big, dark eyes managed to be pleading and defiant at the same time and Hux had never seen anyone like him.

Except he had, and couldn’t place him, and the mystery was too much.

“You never called me by my birth name,” Ren said, propping up his head on his hand. “I'd have thought you of all people would be a stickler for that.”

Hux didn't answer immediately, staring into the middle distance. “You know why everyone calls me Hux?” he asked.

“Because that's your name?” Ren replied, and Hux hated it when someone  _ else _ deflected a question with a question.

“Because my mother named me Julian Huxley, and apparently that's somehow unusual over here.” Ren gave no audible response. When Hux glanced over, he just raised his eyebrows, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure you didn't leave behind a Peerage?” Ren joked.

Hux rolled his eyes. “I didn't grow up in some country estate, I lived in a council flat. School was always a nightmare, but after my mother died, my father brought me over and put me in boarding school. You can well imagine what the other boys thought of that name, and my accent.”

“I like it,” Ren said, and Hux wondered which he meant.

“So do I,” he continued in irritation. He decided not to mention just how long it had taken him to rid his words of odd affricatives and extra r’s to sound like someone else. “I just got tired of punching my American classmates in the teeth.”

“Hux it is, then,” Ren said, as if a matter had just been closed.

“At work, anyway,” Hux said jokingly, and seriously considered cutting out his own tongue. Ren must have seen the wince of embarrassment and chose not to press. A terrible longing to hear his name from those lips dropped into his stomach, and Hux hoped it drowned in the acid. 

“Thank you,” Ren said softly, and Hux didn't quite make the jump, too lost in his own head.

“For what?” he asked in confusion.

“For telling me yours,” Ren said. “And for never calling me what  _ my _ mother did.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I respected you?” Hux said. “That wasn't easy for me to admit, you know. You gave me your name as Kylo Ren. That's who you are to me.”

Ren smiled at the admission and looked down at his shoes. His hair was in his eyes again, and Hux wanted nothing more than to reach out and tuck back a strand. How ridiculous, he thought to himself. Ren doesn't want your softness. He doesn't like you for your weakness. You're no good to him like this and you know it.

“What drew you to military history?” Hux asked, grasping for something, anything, to change the subject. He figured getting Ren to talk about himself would do the trick, and he wasn't disappointed.

Looking surprised at the question, Ren raised his head and shook the hair from his eyes. “My grandfather was a Green Beret, 5 th SFP. Part of the first wave into Vietnam. I never knew him, he died a year before I was born. My mom and dad, they wouldn't talk about him, but when I was a kid I found a bunch of his stuff in a storage shed. His uniforms, medals, war diaries. It's funny, you know? My uncle's a philosophy professor, total pacifist, but he's the one who told me all the stories.

“Life’s funny like that sometimes,” Hux offered.

“It messed him up,” Ren said. “The stuff he saw over there. The way he was treated when he came back. Fucking Agent Orange wasn’t even the half of it.” Ren scuffed his shoe angrily against the bricks. “He was only 45 when he died. I understand that gave my mom issues, but at least my Uncle wanted to remember him.”

Maybe this hadn’t been the best route of conversation after all. Hux knew he should wrap things up, call it a night, but he didn’t actually want to go back inside. It was comfortable here with Ren, companionable even, and it had been a very long time since he could say that.   

“You frightened me the other night,” Hux said quietly, then wished he could take it back. He didn't want to talk about the concert, or what happened in the alley afterward.

Ren tilted his head back, looking at the sky. “I can't believe I tried to hit you. It'll never happen again, I won't let it.”

“No, it won't,” Hux agreed with more command in his tone than he should have let slip. “I wasn't referring to myself, believe me, I'm not worried.” Ren shot him a brief glance in annoyance, then rolled his eyes, but Hux wasn't finished. “If I hadn't been there, you might have killed that man.”

“I just get so angry,” Ren said, focusing somewhere out past the car park. “Once it starts, it's like I'm a different person. I can't keep it from boiling over. I've done some really bad shit, man, you don't know. You don't know.” He shook his head, leaning back and looking up at the stars. “It's been better, though, lately.” 

Hux almost wished he didn’t know what Ren was getting at. “We all have things in our past we shouldn’t have done,” Hux offered. Ren shot him a curious look, but Hux didn’t feel like giving up any details. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a good person. Having some sort of structure was what eventually helped me with my anger. If it helps you, then - I’m glad for it.”  

The silence that stretched out between them after Hux’s words wasn’t exactly comfortable anymore, and Hux struggled to find something, anything to say. The only sounds were the chitter of night insects in the still, summer air, and the scuff of Ren’s trainer scraping slowly against the bricks. Ren beat him to the punch, glancing over with a nervous smile. 

“So, how about that local sports team? I hear they’re, uh, doing great.” 

The question pulled a short laugh from Hux and he swatted Ren lightly on the shoulder. His hand didn’t make it back down to his side, arrested by a sudden swift motion. Hux held his breath, feeling Ren's fingers wrap tightly around his wrist. He pulled back, but Ren didn't let go, something in his face shifting away from amusement. Hux saw himself in the break room, his hand clasped about Ren’s wrist, making the first in a long series of very bad moves. It felt like years ago. 

Ren tugged his hand toward him, and Hux felt the dominoes begin to fall. He watched, frozen, as Ren pressed his lips to each finger of his hand in turn. What started as a chaste kiss devolved quickly into a hot, wet slide and Hux felt dizzy from a sudden rush of blood. Ren nudged Hux's index finger up with a flick of his tongue, and pulled it in past his lips. Holding his gaze, Ren swirled his tongue around the first knuckle and gently sucked at the skin, tearing from Hux an involuntary shudder. He wondered absurdly if he tasted like smoke.

Sliding his tongue back, Ren let Hux slip his finger free. He moved his hand to Ren's cheek, drawing a slick line across flushed skin. “You'll be the death of me,” Hux whispered, tracing Ren's lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Ren leaned into the motion, his breath ghosting warm and shallow along Hux's wrist. Hux moved his hand up to tangle in his hair, and Ren's eyes fell shut.

Hux couldn’t help it, he tugged hard on Ren’s hair, tilting his head back. From the sound Ren made, it wasn’t unwelcome. He leaned forward and Hux tugged back again, this time twisting his fingers until he heard a few hairs snap. Ren’s mouth fell open, a moan tumbling out. 

“Do you believe in fate?” Ren asked, voice breathy and soft with the sort of hope Hux could only describe as painful. 

The question took him by surprise, childish and yet piercing. The air was too thick, flush with summer heat and the desire that radiated from Ren in waves. It matched his own, his skin hot and tingling. This was the only thing Hux wanted and it was also the worst idea he’d ever had. There was no possible way this could end well. 

“No,” Hux said, forcing a chill in his tone. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

Ren opened his eyes, reaching up for Hux’s wrist. Hux untangled his fingers and pulled back, rising to his feet. It was cruel, he knew, but his heart pounded in his chest and fear began creeping in at the edges. 

“Hey - what are you -” Ren managed, his voice hoarse. He braced himself against the steps where he had nearly toppled over. 

“Go home, Ren,” Hux said dismissively, making his way to the door. His heart was pounding, his fingers had gone numb. He wasn’t even sure just what he was escaping, only that he needed to be as far away from it as possible. An animal fear coiled around his limbs like some monster from a child’s dream, invisible and terrible in the oldest sense of the word. It left an acrid taste in his mouth, and a feral noise in his ears.

Half-mad from it, Hux didn't look back. He closed the door behind him, wishing he could shut out the guilt as effectively as the light. The orange glow was meant to be soft, and gentle, but right now it was the enemy. Hux had just turned the deadbolt when the the handle moved, the door rattling against the lock.

“Hux?” The heavy door muffled Ren's voice, but not enough. Hux could hear the confusion, the hurt. His legs threatened to crumple beneath him, and Hux leaned against the wall. “Hux!” Ren's voice turned angry and the door shuddered in its frame from a single hard blow. The noise echoed down the hallway and Hux flinched.

He pushed away from the wall and walked the store without turning on the lights, pacing between each row, checking the doors as if this was normal, as if his hands weren't still shaking. After an age had passed, he ventured cautiously to the back rooms, alert for the slightest sound. The hallway was silent, and Hux watched the door, thankful that he hadn't yet given Ren a key. Nerves set painfully on edge, he unlocked the door leading upstairs, pausing a few steps up to lock all three bolts behind him. Reaching the top, he slid another deadbolt home and stood just inside, taking long, slow breaths.

He was still seeing spots. Embarrassment for his actions tried to push its way in and he hastily stamped it out. What he’d just done was terrible, but the fear had taken him by the neck and refused to let him go, shaking him in its teeth. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, counting up and counting down. Gradually, the peace and security of his loft surrounded him, and his heart began to slow. 

Ren was going to want to know why, and Hux supposed he deserved an answer. Hux mentally ticked off the reasons that mattered less and less every day. Ren was Hux’s employee, he was nine years younger, he was incredibly volatile and a disaster waiting to happen. Christ. Just when Hux had begun to make good decisions in his life, Kylo Ren had to happen to him.

He moved to one of the large back windows, overlooking the car park. Hux hadn't thought he could feel worse about the situation until he saw Ren, still sat on the steps, curled in around himself. Of course, he chose that moment to look up, straight where Hux stood. In the instant before Hux moved away, like some child caught out for misbehavior, he thought he saw something cross Ren's face. Something in him tugged, aching to open that door and apologize, to wrap his arms around Ren, to pull him inside and -

_ And what? _ Hux asked himself. Take him upstairs, take him to bed with no rules in place, no definition? That wasn’t what Ren seemed to want, what either of them wanted, soft and hazy and reckless enough to be easily written off. Hux was certain he would only disappoint. It would lead to an awkward morning after, a few even more awkward shifts, and inevitably Ren's letter of resignation dropped off in the post. Hux realized that frightened him more than anything else.

If he kept Ren wanting, Hux knew he wouldn't leave.


	4. Chapter 4

This was the dream. Hux stood at parade rest beside a rectangular hole in the earth. He knew without turning around that row after row of empty chairs spread out behind him, vanishing into the distance. A light breeze rippled through the sea of pale grass surrounding him and something moved between the stalks. The sky was empty, the sun a dim glow on the horizon, and Hux couldn't remember why he'd come.

Footsteps echoed loud in the silence. Hux turned, trying to find the source of the noise but none seemed to exist. There was no road to travel, no casket to bury, no leaves to fall. There was nothing, and no one, and the quiet hung like a weight. Death gave no warning and the bullets came on a sharp white wind, burrowing beneath his skin without a sound.

 

Hux didn't see Ren until nearly two days had passed. He crossed through the break room to grab a doughnut from the morning's batch and stopped in his tracks at the sight of Ren rummaging through his locker. For a moment, Hux was afraid he was cleaning it out. After his behavior the other night, Hux would understand if he did. Hate it, sure, but he would have to accept Ren’s desire to be through with him.

Hux tried to pass Ren by, let him get ready for his shift in peace, but he couldn't help throwing a glance over his shoulder before walking out. Shrugging on a collared shirt, Ren was turned just far enough in Hux's direction for him to see the ugly line of bruises spreading along his left cheek. Something ignited in his chest at the thought of someone other than him leaving their mark there and left Hux furious.  

Hux stalked forward and grabbed Ren by the shoulders, turning him around and pushing him back against the lockers. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Hi, Hux.” Ren said in sarcastic greeting. He almost sounded drunk. “Nice to see you, too.” His gaze dropped from Hux's eyes to his lips and lingered there. Hux could still smell blood and saw that Ren's knuckles were cracked and split. There was something frighteningly beautiful about him like this, volatile and broken.

“You like me better this way, don't you,” Ren asked, as though he could hear Hux's thoughts. “Pisses you off, doesn’t it? You want to leave your own bruises.” Hux could only hear the growl that escaped his throat in wordless assent.

“You want to fuck me like this,” Ren said, his voice low, and  _ yes, _ Hux thought,  _ I really do _ . This was every kind of wrong, and Hux knew it, and wasn't doing a damn thing to stop it. “You're thinking about it,” Ren guessed, or maybe it was written on his face.

“I don't want to fuck you at all,” Hux growled.

“Liar,” Ren said, leaning forward. “You could have fucked me on those steps, but you ran away like a goddamn coward.”

Hux shoved him hard against the metal, digging his fingers into Ren's shoulders until his own hands ached. “You will never call me that again,” he forced out, nearly spitting in Ren's face. “Is that clear?”

“Sure boss,” Ren agreed easily, tilting his head against the metal. Hux nearly slapped him.

“Are you drunk?” Hux asked, though he couldn't smell any hint of alcohol on Ren's breath.

“Just angry,” Ren assured him.

“We talked about this,” Hux reminded him in a stern tone of voice, trying to make some sense of the situation.

“We 'talked' about a lot of things,” Ren said.

Hux released his grip on Ren's right shoulder to press his left forearm up under his chin. Ren choked on the pressure. “I wouldn't give you what you wanted, so you found someone who would? Is that it?”

“You have no fucking idea what I want,” Ren gasped out.

“Oh, I think I do,” Hux answered, easing up on his neck for the space of a breath before shifting his right hand up to grip Ren's face. He pressed hard along the line of bruises until Ren made a needy sound. Hux ran his thumb back and forth along Ren's cheekbone, digging in hard until Ren's eyes rolled back, what little breath he had caught in his throat. Hux increased the pressure steadily on his airway. Ren's mouth hung open, eyelids fluttering as he gasped for breath. His back arched out from the lockers, his head falling back, and Hux moved his hand up to wind through Ren's hair. Hux yanked his head back, hard, and tears spilled over to run down Ren's cheek as he shook.

If Hux thought he wanted Ren the other night, wanted to force his tongue between those lips, shove him down on the steps and let the brick scrape his elbows raw, it was nothing compared to what he wanted to do right now.

A crash echoed from the general direction of the stockroom, and Hux let Ren go abruptly as if caught out. His head fell forward with a harsh cry, and Hux smacked his hand over Ren's lips to muffle the sound.

“Stay in the back,” Hux ordered. “I want every inch of this room spotless. When you've finished that, clean the stockroom. If you finish  _ that _ , unpack the new inventory and so help me, if it's not perfectly organized when I come in to check --”

“You'll what,” Ren spat, his jaw clenched. “Hit me?”

“No,” Hux said coldly, his tone so even it surprised even himself. “I'll ignore you.”

 

Hux made a point of avoiding the back portion of the store until the evening's business had wrapped up. He knew everyone on shift had run into Ren at least once, seen the bruises and the menial labor to which he had been assigned, and decided as one to avoid the both of them. With the doors locked, the registers balanced, the shelves mostly organized and the floor swept clean, Hux finally killed the lights and headed up to the stockroom for the inevitable confrontation. It wouldn't be as bad, Hux thought, if he struck first.

Ren was sat on a stack of pallets, new stock piled around him in plastic bundles. He rested his elbows on his knees, his head sunk down. The inventory was in fact unpacked, but it was entirely disorganized and the sight of Ren perched atop the wooden stacks broke the last bit of temper Hux had managed to keep.

“Aren't you just a mess,” he ground out, air hissing between his teeth. Ren didn't move. “Even when you haven't had the shit beaten out of you. You show up wrinkled, your hair a wreck, like you just rolled out of bed. It's disgusting!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I have!” Ren threw back, daring to look up. “Like when you call me at 6 am and tell me to get my ass here after I closed the night before.”

“It isn't my fault you can't handle the responsibilities of the job,” Hux said. “God knows you can't take criticism, so feel free to fuck right off.”

“I can't handle -” Ren bit off his own words, sliding down from his perch. He seemed to have worked off his fury in the intervening hours, but a tightly coiled anger was still apparent in every line of his body. “You know why I'm the only one you call?” he asked. “Because I always pick up the phone, Hux. Every goddamn time. You could call me at three in the morning and I would still pick up.”

“And well you should!” Hux fired back. He had absolutely no basis for it, but he wanted it to be true.

“You see?” Ren threw one hand in the air. “That's just it. I'm the only one you're not going to run off by being a world class asshole. I know it, you know it, and that scares the shit out of you.” Ren folded his arms across his chest.

“You think I can't scare you?” Hux said, taking a step forward.

“That's not the fucking point!”

“Then what is the point?” His voice echoed off the walls. “You're always pushing, as if trying my patience were some sort of game to keep you amused.” Ren raised an eyebrow, and it only incensed Hux further. “You leave the kitchen a mess, you leave off shelving to threaten customers.” Hux's face was slowly turning red with anger. “The only area in which you truly excel is your complete lack of professionalism.”

“Is that all?” Ren asked, his voice infuriatingly calm. “Are you done?”

“No!” Hux shouted, his voice gone raw. “You're insufferable! You have no respect for boundaries. You break everything you touch!” His hands curled into fists at his sides, wanting to strike out, make contact, to hurt. His fingers dug into his palms, and Hux felt the first sharp sting of pain.

“Maybe that's exactly what you need,  _ Jules _ ,” Ren said, raising his chin. Hux flinched at hearing his name turned against him. “Someone to break you.”

“Get out,” Hux said, a fierce undercurrent of rage sharpening the quiet words. “I'm tired of this.” He broke off, turning his head away. “If you hate this job so much, I won't keep you here.” He turned his back and made his way back downstairs. Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind him, loud and angry, but he didn't turn around. Hux stalked back down the hallway to his office, shoes clacking against the tile. _If you hate this_ , Hux thought, _if you -_

His churning thoughts refused to quiet, anger sharpening their edges. Ren followed close behind, but Hux could feel him pause at the threshold to the office, as if hesitant to cross a visible line when he had already pushed past so many others.

“What do you want, Hux?” Ren sounded exhausted.

Hux turned around, leaning back against the desk. It was sturdy, and weathered, and right now he wanted to break it in half. “Dangerous question, don't you think?” If Ren came one step closer Hux would see to it that the right side of his face matched the left.

Ren's eyes narrowed, tilting his head as if trying to solve a particularly vexing equation. His tongue flicked out to lick his top lip, and Hux's train of thought jumped the tracks. He wanted to work that lip between his teeth, wanted to make it swell and bleed.

“I thought you liked this,” Ren said, his words picking up in speed and volume as he continued. “I thought you liked me on my hands and knees. I thought you liked telling me how to dress and how to speak. I thought you wanted me to earn it, but no, that's that's still not enough for you, is it?” Ren held his hands out in front of him, fingers slicing through empty air. “Do you need me to deserve it?”

“What is it you think you deserve?” Hux asked, his voice admirably calm while his insides twisted. 

“For you to stop fucking with me!” Ren's voice choked around the words. Hux pressed his fingertips to his forehead, feeling cornered in the middle of a room. “Goddamn it, Hux,” Ren cursed, the side of his fist striking the door frame. “You have been right here with me since day one, don't even try to deny it. Maybe I fucked up the other night, I don't know, but I'm tired of you starting shit and then running away. Do I have to piss you off? Is that how to get your attention?”

Ren took an angry step forward into the room, reaching out to grasp at a high shelf without looking. He wrenched it from its moorings, sending an antique inkwell and other knick-knacks crashing to the floor. Hux recoiled as the sound sent an unexpected shock through his bones. He focused in on the wreckage; a bent quill, a tiny metal typewriter on its side. A hand-tooled sextant rattled against the floorboards, brass arms akimbo in a sea of broken glass. The seething rage he'd been smothering for the last 8 hours rose up to fill his lungs and his vision swam, his right hand curling up into a fist. He was across the room before his brain had a chance to catch up with his feet, shoving Ren hard up against the wall where the shelf had been.

“Gonna put me in my place?” Ren laughed, sounding half-delirious. “Is that what does it for you? Does that get you hard?”

“You're not going to get what you want just by pissing me off,” Hux insisted, striking out to grip Ren by throat. Ren's choked gasp was its own reward as his hands closed around Hux's wrist, struggling to break his hold.

“Then what?” Ren spat back, gaining a small amount of traction by digging in his nails. “What's the secret code, Hux?” He struggled, drawing in what air he could to fuel his words. “Are you going to make me beg for it?”

Something wondrous and terrible about the world snapped into place. It must have shown, because Ren's eyes widened at the sudden revelation. Hux's grip failed and he dropped his hand from Ren's throat as if burned, flexing his fingers and taking a step back. “Go home, Ren,” he ordered, his voice far more steady than he felt. He turned away and faced the desk, bracing himself with both hands against the wood.

“That's it,” Ren said from behind him, hoarse and breathless. “You need to see me beg.”

The air was too thin, the room too dark. Hux let his shoulders slump, his eyes sliding shut for a brief moment, just enough to make the world stop spinning.  _ Yes _ , he thought, a spreading heat in his chest making him dizzy. In the end, that was what he always wanted - someone completely at his mercy.

“You don't know what you're asking,” Hux said in warning. It was far too mild. There were some things that could never be put back in the box once you let them out.

“You do,” Ren said, the sound of glass beneath his feet traveling up Hux's spine. He shivered.

“I'm the last person you should trust,” Hux said. The violence that slept in him was no less dangerous for dwelling deep beneath the surface. The creature of anger and hurt that lived under Ren's skin might have been louder, but it was easily sated.

“I know,” Ren said, his voice low and resolute. 

Hux turned halfway around, the sharp reprimand on his lips dying as Ren moved closer. He nearly had to sit on his hands to keep them on the desk. He wanted to reach out, to stroke a finger down the hard line of muscle along Ren’s neck, wanted to grab him by the shirt and tear it off. Hux wanted everything, all at once, and something inside him finally broke. He thought it should have made a sound in the still, heavy air. 

“On your knees,” he commanded, and god help him, Ren obeyed. 

Hux heard the crack when Ren's knees hit the wooden planks. Just the sound alone was painful. There was glass still beneath him, tiny shards doubtless digging into his jeans to scrape at the skin beneath. Hux imagined he smelled blood. Something in Ren seemed to have relaxed, his shoulders loose, and Hux was fascinated by the shift. Ren moved one hand to Hux's waistband, fingers pausing at the buckle of his belt. 

“Please?” he asked, looking up for permission. 

Hux’s face heated, and he hoped Ren couldn’t see it in the darkened room. He gave a slight nod, and Ren's fingers worked the buckle open, pulling the leather through and letting it drop to the floor. Hux couldn't help but give the belt a considering glance before turning his attention back to Ren. Later, he promised himself, already imagining the sharp slap of leather against Ren’s bare flesh, already seeing the bright red mark it would leave. 

Ren slid one hand down the starched fabric across Hux's right leg while the other waited patiently at the top button. He gave another silent nod and Ren worked both buttons through the slits, careful not to tug too hard at the fabric. Hux was pleased by the care Ren took. He didn't pause to ask before slowly pulling down the zipper, but Hux didn’t chastise him. He didn’t think he could bear it if Ren stopped now. 

Ren slid Hux's trousers down over his hips, and Hux was glad the tailored fit kept them from falling to the floor in a crumpled mess. This time when Ren didn't ask before leaning in and tracing the ridge of Hux's cock through his briefs, Hux reached down and stroked through Ren's ridiculous mess of hair. Ren made a soft noise, flicking out his tongue, and Hux yanked him back roughly, holding him in place.

“That won't do,” he said, keeping his voice light in contrast to his tight control of Ren's neck. Ren bit his lip and hooked a finger from each hand into the elastic. They were tight, even before Ren's brazen submission had gotten him hard. Hux hoped Ren would notice their color, a dark navy blue, and view his adherence to the dress code differently in the future. Ren tugged them down far enough to free Hux's cock, licking his lips. He leaned in and Hux wound his fingers in Ren's hair, dragging him away. 

“Say it.” Hux commanded, looking down to meet Ren's gaze where his head was tipped back.

“May I?” Ren asked, and from this angle, his eyes might as well have been black holes.

“How do you address me?”

A hint of confusion crossed Ren's face, clearly searching for the right answer. Hux watched his gaze travel to the wall behind the desk, where three medals rested inside a glass frame. Hux inclined his head in encouragement.

“May I, sir?” Ren's tone was full of breathless hope.

“You may,” Hux said in reply, his voice gone thick with wanting. Ren ran his tongue along the underside of his cock from root to tip, giving a moment's extra attention to the taut line beneath the head. Hux swallowed down a groan as Ren wrapped his long, powerful fingers around the base and stroked, twice, three times. He licked at Hux's slit, already wet, and wrapped his lips around the head, sliding it in and out of his mouth. Hux carded his fingers through Ren's hair with a somewhat gentler touch and Ren took that for the encouragement it was. He took most of Hux's length in his mouth, and Hux gripped the edge of his desk to keep silent. He was so very grateful he hadn't traded out the sturdy antique for steel and glass.

Hux used the leverage to force his cock further down Ren's throat and he took it far better than Hux would have expected. His apparent lack of a gag reflex felt like a gift to Hux, and he used it to great advantage. Ren managed to hum around the shaft as Hux thrust his hips forward again and again, lost to it, his head sliding down the back of Ren's throat. It could have been an hour, it could have been five minutes. When Hux came it was a revelation, whiting out his vision and leaving stars in place of sight. He let out a moan as Ren stroked him through it, sucking a little too hard on sensitive skin. Hux tugged gently on his hair, chest heaving as he pulled Ren off. He watched Ren wipe a trail of saliva and semen from his chin, sinking down to briefly lean his head against Hux's hip.

Hux rested his hand lightly on the back of Ren's neck, brushing his fingers down from the hairline. Ren gave Hux's cock a final stroke, drawing a quiet gasp before tucking him back into his briefs. He rearranged Hux's trousers, pulling up the zipper in one smooth motion. Rising to his feet, Ren wiped his hands off on his jeans before turning his back to Hux. Ren cracked his neck and paused in the doorway, clearly on his way out.

“See you later,” he threw casually over one shoulder, pulling back his hair and disappearing down the hallway. Hux struggled to calm the pounding in his chest as he heard the snap of a locker closing, then footsteps toward the back door. He remained upright until the sound of a struggling engine faded away into the distance.

Only then did Hux let out a shuddering breath, sinking down to the floor. Resting his elbows on his knees, he closed his eyes and silently fell apart.

 

Hux spent the next two days wandering the city with an odd sort of purpose. He rearranged Ren's schedule to keep him out of the store while his bruises healed, giving him time to ponder the next steps. After the frankly revelatory experience of Ren's mouth on his cock, Hux decided he had a great many steps to take. As his luck would have it, his custom order took the better part of three days to finish, but Hux supposed you couldn't rush quality.

When Ren came in for his next shift, Hux simply ignored him. He could feel Ren's eyes on him, wanting attention to be paid but afraid to demand it. He hadn't initiated contact in any way since that night in his office, and Hux hoped it was driving him mad. He knew Ren saw him leave the floor to take delivery of the package from the back lot, and knew his absence after the fact was noticed. After wrapping up his business for the day, Hux stopped in the break room before retiring upstairs.

He left a matte black box in Ren's locker, the lid embossed with an H in a block-print font. Nestled inside was a stainless steel band composed of a curved hemisphere and a flat piece to secure it on the wrist. Beside it sat a miniature hex key that wasn't a hex at all, having only 5 sides. It was difficult to turn, and even more difficult to find a spare. It wasn't an order to wear the cuff, not exactly. It was a decision to be made.

A hand-written note lined the bottom of the box with further instructions.  _ If you choose to wear it, you will not take it off until I allow it. _

Only the key awaited him on his desk the next morning.

 

Hux held out as long as he could without acknowledging any change. Ren had night shifts, coming in well after noon and working until at least ten, and Hux didn't wake him up even once with a phone call at the crack of dawn. He prided himself on his remarkable self-control even as he gave Ren the worst, most involving tasks.

Inventory the Literature section. Deep clean the coffee bar. Organize the shelves and cubbies beneath the registers. Done, done well, and – passable. The unequal division of labor might have bothered Hux, if he were particularly inclined to fits of conscience. Besides, he knew he would end up asking Mitaka to complete the reorganization later.

Ren even stopped slacking off when his former bandmates stopped in to chat and read graphic novels for free. For his part, Hux stopped walking over and glaring after he heard snatches of conversation that were likely about him. The short one with half her head shaved sat on the floor, her nose buried in something about a blue cat. The stocky one who always wore antique goggles for no discernible reason had so far read most of Transmetropolitan, and Hux was close to making Ren pay for it. It was the tall one, though, with lank brown hair down to his waist and arms too long for his frame that couldn’t keep his mouth shut that day. 

“...too good for him, man...fucking asshole.” 

Gramercy, Hux thought, matching him to pictures on fansites he definitely hadn’t been browsing. Hux wasn’t concerned with the opinion of a bassist known for doing keg-stands on stage. 

“Leave it alone,” the short one advised without looking up.

“I’m serious, Rook,” the tall one continued, arms folding over his chest. “Guys like him don’t get with people like us.”

“People like what?” Ren asked, mirroring his posture. “Say what you mean, Mercy, or shut the hell up about it.”

“Look, Ky,” the tall one said, lowering his voice. “You’ve always had shit judgement in who you sleep with but -”

“You mean like you?” Ren interrupted, one eyebrow raised. Rook looked up, biting her lip. Goggles scratched the back of his neck. Score one for the forum conspiracy theorists, Hux thought. They’d been right after all.

“Whatever, man.” Mercy scuffed his boots on the tile. “Don’t come crying to me when he fucks you over.” 

Ren ignored them until they left, and Hux rarely saw them after that. Feeling slightly vindictive over Ren not saying anything in his favor, Hux made him dust every single shelf before he left that night. He did a thorough job, though Hux could nearly see the tiny storm cloud of anger following him from stack to stack. 

Hux’s favorite assignment was the time he pulled the mop and bucket out from the supply closet and left them in front of Ren without a word. He got to work swiftly and without complaint. Hux looked up every so often from balancing the till and watched Ren's slow progress across the floor. It had been a light day for business, cool and dry outside, and the floor probably didn't need such a thorough cleaning. Ren knew it, and that made the task even more appealing to Hux. One by one, the other employees clocked out for the night, but Ren remained.

When he'd finished the entire floor, Ren disappeared into the back without a word. Hux frowned, until he heard the bucket being emptied and refilled. Hux stopped on the way to his office and saw Ren starting on the break room floor as well.

“The stockroom could use a good cleaning while you're at it,” Hux suggested, wondering if Ren would protest. There wasn't a sink, and he would have to lug the bucket up the stairs already filled with water.

“Yes, sir,” he answered without looking up.

Hux smiled, considering telling Ren he'd been a good boy, but holding back his praise. Tomorrow he'd get out the scrub brush for the grout and only when Ren's hands were dry and cracked, fingernails beginning to bleed, would he assure Ren that he had done well.


	5. Chapter 5

Things proceeded apace for the better part of two weeks, Hux's cold supervision interrupted only by brief moments of shared heat in corners and darkened hallways. His hand occasionally lingered in Ren's hair after an unexpected caress, or skimmed his fingertips down Ren's arm to feel the gooseflesh rise. Ren made the most gratifying sound when Hux pressed the flat of his palm against his groin, sliding up and down before moving past him without a word. 

A thrill shot through him each time he glimpsed the glint of metal among the bands clustered at Ren’s wrist. Hux heard the staff talking among themselves in whispers, but as far as he could tell, Ren never acknowledged the gossip. He did as he was told, went where he was directed, and completed each assignment with such attention to detail that Hux decided to move the game forward.

Making sure everyone else had left for the night, Hux found Ren at his locker, lingering hopefully as usual. “My office,” Hux said, turning his back before Ren could offer a response. Hux heard his steps behind him in the hall, almost quick enough to overtake him. Pulling the chair out from behind his desk, Hux placed it in the center of the room before reaching for a leather driving glove. Ren stood in the doorway, awaiting orders. 

“Pull down your trousers,” Hux said briskly, as if ordering dinner or asking for a pen. 

Ren fumbled with the clasp on his belt, a ropey mess striped red and black. If Hux had seen it before now, Ren would have cleaned the bathrooms until they sparkled, on his knees, with a toothbrush. Tugging at the tight fabric, Ren shoved his jeans down nearly to his ankles. His boxers were black, and a bit worn. 

Hux took a seat in the chair and patted one knee. “Come here.” 

Ren knelt beside him obligingly, glancing up in brief hesitation before stretching out across Hux’s lap. Hux ran his hand across the thin fabric covering Ren’s ass before delivering a sharp pinch. Ren gasped, letting out a strangled sound before biting his lip. Toying with the elastic waistband a little, Hux pulled his pants down to expose Ren’s pale cheeks, smiling at the small pink blush he’d already left. He couldn’t resist tracing a light circle around it with his finger before pulling back. He let his hand linger in the air, feeling Ren’s breaths come rapidly. He was already half hard, pressed against Hux’s thigh, and Hux hadn’t even started yet. 

Focusing on slowing his own breathing, Hux let the tension build as long as he could stand it. Ren squirmed a bit, and he brought his hand down hard against one cheek. The sound of leather against skin echoed through the room louder than Ren’s grunt of pain. Hux did it again. Ren’s breathing was ragged, and a warm shot of elation traveled through Hux just to hear it. He brought his hand down against the other cheek, continuing and alternating to keep Ren guessing as to where the next blow would land. 

Cries of pain turned to gasps and moans as it went on, Ren’s ass flushed and swollen. He rocked against Hux’s thigh, fully hard now, his ribs brushing up against Hux’s own erection. It was heady, feeling Ren’s whole body jerk with each strike. Stroking one hand across the sensitive skin, Hux imagined the bruises that would later form. Ren wouldn’t find it easy to sit down for days. Hux couldn’t wait to watch. 

“Please,” Ren gasped out, wet and delirious. He dragged his cock along Hux’s thigh, hot and thick, leaving a damp trail. Hux hit him again. Ren grunted, then began to beg. “Please, Hux,” he said with a sob. “I need to -”  _ smack _ “God, please -”

“What do you call me?” Hux asked, backhanding the other cheek. Ren choked on a glorious sound. 

“Sir,” he managed. “Please, sir, can I - ah!” He cried out at a particularly vicious strike, trailing off into a whine. Hux couldn’t stop his hand, bringing it down harder, faster each time. Ren arched his back, thrusting against Hux’s leg, and Hux pinched him. He debated for a moment whether or not to let Ren come, ruining his trousers, or to send him home, shaking and desperate. 

“Ask for it,” Hux demanded, kneading his fingers into the places that looked the most sore. Ren nearly gagged on the pain, but managed to spit out the words. 

“Can I come?” He groaned as Hux’s fingers found a tender spot. “Sir,” he corrected. “Please?” Hux delighted in waiting before answering, delivering another harsh smack. 

“Yes,” he said finally. 

Ren moaned, loud and long, hips twitching as Hux spanked him twice more for good measure. One hard thrust and Ren spilled all down his leg, hot and wet and filthy. Hux didn’t know if he loved it or hated it. Ren’s breathing was harsh, his body limp in Hux’s lap. Hux reached over to stroke one hand through his hair and Ren leaned up into the touch. He lingered a moment, moving his fingers lightly over Ren’s scalp, before bending to press a kiss to his crown. Ren made a beautiful, needy sound, and Hux drew back, sliding a hand down his spine.  

“Get up when you can,” he said softly. His own erection had flagged, but only a little. Somehow Ren’s exhaustion, the submission evident in every muscle, was nearly as arousing as the act that brought him to this point. It took a few minutes, the two of them breathing silently together in the dim light, before Ren stirred. 

He struggled a bit, pulling back and tugging up his boxers. Remaining on his knees, Ren sat  beside the chair for a moment with one hand on Hux’s thigh, eyes half shut, breathing hard. Hux brushed the hair back from his face where it had fallen out of its tie, and Ren pressed his cheek into Hux’s palm. After a long, still moment, Hux rose from the chair and held out his hand.

“Can you stand up?” 

Ren tilted his head back, watching Hux watch him. His expression was unreadable, but Hux couldn’t stop staring. He moved his hand forward and Ren reached up, squeezing his hand before pulling himself to his feet. Ren fumbled with his jeans, tugging them up and struggling with the belt. He stood close, after, and Hux wrapped one arm lightly around his waist before he could think better of it. His other hand circled Ren’s wrist, toying with the cuff. He wanted to pull Ren in and kiss him, wanted to bring him upstairs for a shower and take him to bed. But that wasn’t what this was about, was it? 

“You’ve been a good boy for me,” he said softly. Ren gave a pleased hum. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, smiling, more a conciliatory promise than a dismissal. Hux slid his hand lower to squeeze Ren’s ass through his jeans and Ren made a startled sound, pressing forward against him. 

“Hux,” he murmured. “I want -” Unable to finished the sentence, Ren gave up, leaning his head against Hux. 

“I want a lot of things,” Hux conceded, running a hand lightly down Ren’s spine. “I assure you,” he said, his voice low, “I’ll have them.” He turned his head to press a kiss to Ren’s temple, almost a promise. “For tonight, I want you to go home.” He felt Ren’s shoulders slump a little, his hand coming up to grip Hux’s shirt. “You’ve made a complete mess of me,” Hux said truthfully. “I should really make you clean this up.”

“I could -” Ren started to suggest.

“No,” Hux said, stepping back and releasing Ren’s wrist. He peeled Ren’s fingers back from where they clutched his shirt, pulling his hand up to his lips. Hux pressed a firm kiss to his knuckles, letting Ren see the hot desire that still coursed through him even as he dismissed Ren for the night. “Are you all right to drive?” he asked, realizing that should have been higher on his list of priorities. 

Ren nodded, a bit charmed by Hux’s gesture. He squeezed Hux’s hand before letting it drop. “Tomorrow,” he said unnecessarily, turning toward the door. Hux smacked him hard on his ass, and he jumped. 

“Tomorrow,” Hux agreed, his tone carrying a sly smile. Ren let out a small huff of laughter and turned the corner, heading for the door. Returning the chair to its place behind the desk, Hux shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out at the car park between the blinds. “Goodnight, Ren,” he whispered, hearing the door shut, watching him start his car and pull out of the lot.  

Hux waited until Ren was out of sight to close the blinds and leave the office, locking up before heading upstairs. His trousers were wet and cold and he wanted nothing more than to be out of them. When he finally shucked them off in the bathroom, Hux brought them up to his face, breathing in the scent Ren had left there. 

_ You’re filthy _ , he chided himself, rinsing them under cold water from the tap. He scrubbed at the stain with a little soap before leaving them to soak. Stepping under the shower, he turned the water too hot and stood in the steam before slicking up his hand and stroking himself roughly. The sharp smack of his hand against Ren’s skin wouldn’t leave his mind, playing on repeat. Hux came hard against the tile far too quickly and leaned back, steadying himself against the wall until he could see straight.

 

When he slept that night it was deep and nearly dreamless, wispy threads of half-remembered sounds clinging to his mind as he jogged an extra mile. Ren took his breaks standing up the next day, eating a donut leaned up against the worktop and mumbling excuses about back pain. Hux grabbed him roughly when he found him alone, running his hands over his ass until Ren made a pained sound. 

“Still hurts?” he asked, a wicked smile on his face. Ren nodded, leaning his head on Hux’s shoulder. “That should keep you thinking about me,” Hux said smugly.

“‘M always thinking about you,” Ren mumbled against his neck, then took in a sharp breath. Hux gathered he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He filed it away, one more sound to replay when he was alone.

“Good boy,” Hux said softly, running a hand through Ren’s hair. He couldn’t resist one more pinch to Ren’s ass before sending him back to work, pupils wide, face flushed. As if the staff didn’t have enough to talk about already. 

Hux leaned back against the wall for a moment, eyes shut. It was only fair, really. No one had ever occupied this much space in his head. If they couldn’t keep their minds off each other or their hands to themselves, then maybe this crazy thing would work after all.

 

The next box left for Ren was slightly larger than the first. Soft, thin cloth emphasized the quality of the item inside without concealing its shape. Hux wasn't in the habit of giving cheap gifts. He wasn't exactly in the habit of giving gifts at all, but it only seemed right to dote.

Hux wished he could see Ren's face when he opened it. He imagined Ren turning the silicone teardrop this way and that, feeling the movement of the hidden ball bearing without knowing just what was inside. A small bottle of lubricant sat next to it, and Hux trusted Ren could figure out what Hux wanted without needing to be told.

The note beneath the toy was simple.  _ You will not come until I allow it _ .

 

Hux paced the sales floor all morning, anticipating Ren's arrival while driving Amy and Mitaka to distraction. Tripping over a tiny, rubber dinosaur, he nearly flung it at the windows before settling on a mumbled curse. Someone - Hux could hazard a guess who - had brought a box of them in and set them up on a low shelf near the registers for fifty cents. They sold like wildfire, so Hux had decided to leave them, even when he found an orange ankylosaurus on his desk. They’d worked their way all over the store, and Hux was beginning to hate them.  

Settling in at a small reading nook facing the back, Hux watched the clock with growing impatience. Ever unflappable, Cassie set a mug of herbal tea down in front of him with a bit more force than necessary. Hux heard the back door open, followed by Ren's unmistakable shuffle. Hux looked down at the steaming mug and then back up with some confusion.

“Drink the goddamn tea, Hux.” Cassie advised. “Or go smack Kylo around, you know, whatever makes you feel better.” Hux narrowed his eyes and frowned. Instead of seeming cowed, she give him a quick wink and returned to organizing the graphic novels.

Hux took over the register from Mitaka after a few calculated minutes, making sure Ren would have enough time to himself in the break room to open his present. It was a little past a quarter of an hour before he made his way to the floor, trainers spotless, shirt sharply pressed, but looking oddly uncomfortable. Hux ignored him and the hours passed by.

On his way upstairs to grab leftover takeaway, Hux thought he heard muffled sounds coming from the break room. The door on this side was shut, but as he stepped closer the noise resolved into quiet grunts and what almost sounded like moans. He cracked the door open and saw Ren gripping the worktop with an agonized expression.

Hux had counted on the bearing that rolled around inside the plug causing heightened stimulation, but this was extraordinary. Every shift, every movement Ren made would only be amplifying the sensation. No wonder he'd decided to hide in the break room. Ren glanced up with a start, his eyes wide and dark, and he mouthed Hux's name. Hux took him by the arm and led him down the hall to his office, quietly locking the door behind them.

Ren collapsed against it, panting. Hux took Ren's face in his hands, forcing Ren to look at him. “Is it too much?” he asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.

Ren nodded, a conflicted expression on his face. Hux slowly ran his hand through Ren's hair in a soothing rhythm. “Breathe through it,” he said. Ren closed his eyes and did as he was told, short wavering gasps giving way to deeper breaths. “You can hold out,” Hux encouraged softly. “You don't want to disappoint me, do you?”

“No, sir,” Ren managed, but his hips pressed forward against Hux, seeking friction. Hux took a step back. The sight of him so undone made Hux want to grab Ren's ass in both hands and lock him in place, slide his knee between Ren's thighs and let him rut until he screamed. He almost did, but the office was far from soundproof. Besides, the tease only got better the longer it went on. 

“I don't think I can do it.” Ren confessed. Hux imagined laying him out on the desk and taking him in hand, stroking him slowly, teasing him as long as he could get away with before finally letting him come. It was a beautiful image, if ultimately impractical in the middle of the day. 

“Of course you can,” Hux corrected him gently. “And you will.”  

Ren let out a shuddering groan and leaned forward until his head rested on Hux's shoulder. Something in Hux’s chest fluttered and caught fire, knowing Ren was struggling so hard to obey him. Hux let his fingers slide from Ren's hair and travel slowly down his back, rubbing small circles in an attempt at comfort. Ren stay that way until his breathing evened out and his shoulders stopped shaking, leaning his weight on Hux all the while.

Hux was glad Ren couldn't see his face. This odd peace between them felt more intimate than anything he'd ever experienced, even more than his hand on Ren’s bare ass, caressing, striking. It almost felt like trust, and Hux knew he had done little to earn it. It had been a very long time since anyone had put their faith in him, and with good reason. The realization that he wanted to deserve it hit like a punch to the gut, and Hux tried to steady his own breath.

“Better?” Hux asked, returning his thoughts to the situation at hand. Ren nodded against his neck, and Hux reasserted his control over both of them. “Good. You'll only take it out as necessary, and you absolutely will not come without permission. Is that clear?”

Ren lifted his head to stare at Hux. Hux met his gaze, still waiting for an answer.

“What if I don't mean to, but - ” Ren left off, his words hurried and jumbled.

“Then you will text me immediately, no matter what time, and I will decide on your punishment.”

 

Hux woke to the sound of his phone vibrating against the bedside table. He'd been expecting it, but the notification on the lock screen still sent a thrill down his spine. Ren had failed, as Hux knew he would, but his strict adherence to Hux’s rules was even more arousing than he’d counted on.

_ I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. _

_         Why do you need to apologize?  _ Hux sent back, wanting to see Ren spell it out.

_ I was asleep. I didn't mean to do it. _

_         Did you come after I told you not to?  _ Hux wished he could see Ren's face, see the mess he'd made of himself.

_ Yes. _

_         I'm disappointed in you.  _ Hux typed, meaning the opposite. Ren didn't need to know how pleased he was just to receive the texts, much less the admission of guilt they contained.

_ I'll accept your punishment, sir. _

_         Yes,  _ Hux answered.  _ You will _ . Sitting up against the headboard, Hux retrieved a wireless earpiece and pressed the green circle on the screen. Ren picked up on the first ring.

“I'm sorry,” Ren gasped out, and Hux tsked.

“You will speak when spoken to,” he said, infusing his voice with iron. “You disobeyed a direct order. I'm extremely displeased.” Ren gave a soft whimper, but did not speak.  _ Good boy _ . “Did you make a mess?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you cleaned yourself up?”

“No, sir.”

“Good,” he said, allowing a hint of approval in his tone. “Are you still in bed?”

“Yes,” Ren answered, and Hux barely caught a stifled moan across the line.

“Is it still inside you?” Hux asked, knowing he didn't need to use specifics.

“Ah – yes, sir.” Hux heard Ren struggle to take a deep breath. This was getting interesting.

“Stop moving,” Hux commanded, making a somewhat informed guess. He heard a loud squealing of metal and wondered what sort of torture device Ren kept in his room. That was an entirely different train of thought.

“Place your hands on the mattress and keep them there.” Ren gave a strangled gasp at the command. “Are you still hard?” Hux asked, unable to keep a small wistful sigh from his voice.

“Yes,” Ren breathed out, and Hux bit down on his lip.

“Tell me what it feels like when the weight shifts,” Hux ordered, his voice not as steady as he would like.

“Oh god, Hux.” Ren moaned out the words. “It feels so good. So, so good.” Hux could hear the rustle of sheets and knew Ren was rocking his hips back and forth, letting the silicone head brush against his prostate over and over. Hux should have reined him in, but the sound of Ren's voice traveled beneath his skin and Hux didn't tell him to stop.

“What were you dreaming about?” Hux asked, letting his eyes drift shut. He wondered if he would be aroused or appalled by the workings of Ren's subconscious.

“We were in the store,” Ren started, and Hux gave a pleased sigh at his own inclusion. “People were watching us. You had me –  _ mmhf  _ – bent over the long table in the back, and you pulled down my pants and I was so wet for you, god –“ he broke off and Hux heard him draw in a shuddering breath. He let the scene unfold in his mind, tethered to Ren's fantasy by an intense fascination. “You pulled my hair and started spanking me, hard. You told me I'd been bad, that I deserved it,  _ oh _ – can I – please, Hux, can I?”

“No,” Hux answered with a low growl. Ren gave a long whine in response. “Keep talking,” Hux demanded, knowing he sounded a bit wrecked. There would be time for composure later.

“Are you getting off on this?” Ren asked, his voice started to crack. Hux had imagined that sound and here it was, gift wrapped just for him.

“Of course not,” Hux lied, unconvincingly.  _ Not in the way you think _ . “What did I do next?” Hux couldn't help asking. Making Ren come just by recounting his own dream was too good not to take advantage.

“You started fingering me open, but you were going so slow, and I was pushing back against you and you – oh, fuck, Hux, I'm gonna –”

“Not yet,” Hux denied, enjoying his own cruelty. “Did I fuck you? In front of all those people?”

“So hard,” Ren said with a whimper and Hux didn't even care if he was making it up. “Fucked me so hard, Hux. You slammed me up against the table and just kept pounding me, oh god, you just kept going until I came all over the place and you –  _ please _ , fuck – didn't even stop, you pushed my face down in it, told me to clean it up – ah, god, please let me –”

The description of the scene delivered in Ren's desperate, stuttering voice was perfect. Ren continued to beg and those last, threadbare syllables pushed Hux over an edge he hadn't even known he was approaching. He was hard, but that wasn't it, exactly. It was knowing he had Ren precisely where he wanted him, half out of his mind from his demands. It was Ren's voice transformed, all his words run together into a senseless plea that only he could answer.

“Come,” Hux demanded, his own nerves electric. Ren cried out, an animal sound, and Hux thought he could hear the slap of wet flesh in the background.

“Did you touch yourself?” Hux asked with a hint of faux disappointment. There was no reply for a moment, and Hux really didn't want to have to ask again.

“Only a little bit,” Ren answered at last. “Only after you said I could.”

“I never said you could do that,” Hux continued, wishing his lips weren't turned up in something like a smile.

“I'm sorry,” Ren said miserably, and Hux heard a louder shuffling of material through the line followed by the squeal and groan of metal springs.

“It's all right,” Hux said softly, certain Ren had curled up on his side. “Kylo, listen to me. It's all right.” He wasn't sure he'd ever called Ren by his first name before. Thinking back, Hux was certain of it. “You've been so good for me. You haven't done anything wrong.”

“But you said –” Ren didn't finish the sentence. Hux could hear his short, shallow breaths stop for a moment, and he summoned up the commanding tone they both needed to hear.

“I want you to get up,” Hux said. “Take a quick shower, and then change your sheets. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Ren answered immediately. Hux could hear the bed creak, followed by a soft noise of disgust. Hux imagined the sticky, wet mess clinging to his skin. “Oh, I can't – the last part, sir. I can't change my sheets.”

“Are you just that lazy?” Hux questioned, letting a wave of condescension float through the line.

“No sir, I just – I don't have another set.” Something curled uncomfortably in Hux's stomach. It wasn't an admission of poverty. Hux never had more than one set at school, or in the service. Still, life had changed so drastically when he joined First In Order that Hux had almost forgotten what it was like to live on the barest necessities.

“A blanket?” he asked, more quietly this time. Ren gave a barely audible noise that probably meant yes.

“I will require you to keep yourself clean and well groomed at all times,” Hux said in an attempt to save face. It wouldn't hurt Ren to shape up a bit in that department, anyway. “Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” Ren agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Would you like me to cut my hair?”

The offer nearly took Hux's breath away, even more than the desperate wish to please that he knew lay behind it. Ren clearly liked it grown out, enough to pull back from his face. Hux wished he could say yes, could take that vanity away from Ren, but the careless style was actually attractive. Very attractive, if Hux was honest with himself. It provided ample opportunities for tugging and pulling and so long as Ren kept it clean, Hux would prefer it that way.

“No,” Hux answered at last, summoning up as much magnanimity as he could manage. “You may leave it as it is, for now. Know that if you disappoint me, I'll shave it off myself.”

A soft noise floated over the line, and Hux imagined it to be a stifled moan.


	6. Chapter 6

When morning rolled around, Hux wasn't particularly inclined to discuss the previous night's events. He'd forgotten just how early Ren was scheduled, but when Ren walked through the door, dark circles under his eyes, Hux was glad of it. When Ren brought him a perfect macchiato without being asked, it made him feel downright charitable.

“What sort of bed do you sleep on?” Hux asked without preamble, knowing well that the question would throw him off guard. It had sounded as if Ren slept only on box springs instead of a mattress.

“It's a futon,” Ren answered, look at him a bit sideways. Hux gave the wall a considering look.

“Is it comfortable?”

Ren hesitated a moment before answering. “Not really.”

Hux looked down at his desk. He could afford to buy Ren something better. Not fancy, but an improvement over what sounded like a very old, very cranky couch. Hux liked the idea of Ren sleeping on something he had picked out.

“Please don't,” Ren said quietly, looking down at his shoes.

Hux wondered if he should chastise Ren for his daring words, but instead simply nodded in understanding. It was Ren's decision to submit to Hux's demands that satisfied, not any sense of obligation. That hadn't been true in the beginning, with the shirts and trainers. Hux had enjoyed the forceful application of his style, seeing Ren struggle to keep his hair pulled back, clothed to Hux's exact standards. He shouldn't have been surprised at the shift the moment he'd first heard Ren call him _sir_.

Hux took a long lunch and left a set of navy blue sheets folded sharply in Ren's locker. They were softer than the sheets he kept for himself, but that was more to do with the low thread count than any attempt at comfort. He hoped that Ren would notice the bargain brand, and wouldn't still balk at the gift. Hux left a simple note resting on the top. _The next time I tell you to change your sheets, you will._ He signed it with a simple letter H.

 

Ren still wore the plug. Hux was sure of it, even though he hadn't specifically given the order. When he didn't receive another late night call, he assumed Ren was learning at least some measure of control. He imagined the constant wear had grown irritating, if not outright painful. Hux let the situation continue for three days, until Ren resembled an automaton, face grey and closed off.

Hux made excuses for him, telling the staff he didn't feel well but had insisted on coming to work anyway. He played on the open secret that Ren needed the money too much to miss a shift, and everyone gave him a wide berth. Hux saw him turn down a coffee, but Amy refused to be dissuaded and plopped a shortbread biscuit in his hand. Ren smiled and she ruffled his hair. Hux felt slightly jealous at their easy affection. He had never been that carefree with anyone.

The day passed slowly for Hux, and he could only imagine the way the hours must have spread out for Ren. Hux had seen him fail to read Murakami on his break, turning the pages back and forth with a distracted expression. His movements had grown stiff. Ren completed his closing tasks without speaking to Hux or anyone else, and Hux met him at his locker while Amy balanced the registers.

“You've been so good for me,” Hux said, sliding up behind him and running his fingers lightly down Ren's arm. Gooseflesh rose at his touch, and Hux leaned in to whisper in Ren's ear. “You can take it out when you get home,” he allowed. Ren gave a heavy sigh, and Hux wondered briefly if he had pushed too far before realizing that he didn't actually care.

 _You see?_ Hux thought to himself. _Give me your trust, and this is what I do with it._  He flicked out his tongue and licked into the hollow below Ren’s earlobe. Ren shuddered, leaning heavy against the locker door. The steel cuff clanked against it, and Hux could see a dark strip where it had aggravated the skin beneath. At least Ren had the next day free. Hux thought, darkly, that he could spend it recovering.

He pushed a small envelope in Ren's hands. It was a gamble, but one Hux hoped would pay off in the long run. That didn’t keep him from being nervous about it in the meantime. “You may open this as well when you arrive home,” he said, trying to keep his tone brusk without a hint of the uncertainty he felt. “I expect your response as soon as possible.”

 

The bathroom was full of steam when Hux finally turned off the spray. His skin was scraped raw by the brick of exfoliant that he set back in its tiled recess, finally clean enough. He dried himself off with a towel in the bedroom, the air from the ceiling fan blissfully cool against his red and irritated skin. He pulled out a pair of soft blue boxers from a drawer and settled comfortably into bed with a book. It took him a while to notice the blinking green light from his phone on the charging pad. Unlocking it, he discovered 5 missed texts from Ren and nearly snorted with amusement.

_Sir?_

_Please, sir. I don't know what to do._

_Will you tell me what to do?_

_Are you there?_

_Can I call you?_

_No_ , Hux sent, then reconsidered. Ren's show of dedication was intriguing, not to mention hot, and he decided it should be justly rewarded. He set his book down and punched the call button.

“What do you need from me?” Hux said just as Ren picked up. He tried to sound aggravated for Ren's benefit. “I gave you my permission.”

“I know,” Ren mewled into the phone. “I know, but I can't.” Hux let out a long, slow breath in fascination.

“I didn't realize you required supervision,” Hux said. “Where are you?”

“My bed,” Ren answered, and Hux could hear a metallic squeal from the futon.

“I want you to get the lube I gave you.” Hux instructed. As long as they were doing this again, he decided to have a little fun. His words were met with silence. “You do have some left?” he questioned, unsure if the thought was irritating or arousing.

“A little bit,” Ren answered after a moment, and Hux could hear him moving around in the room. “Enough, I think.”

“You don't even know what I'm going to ask you to do,” Hux said, canting his voice low.

Ren huffed out a breath. “Why don't you tell me?”

If Hux could deliver a slap to the face through the phone, he might have done just that. He settled for a stern reprimand. “Did you just ask me to do something?”

“Yes, sir.” Ren admitted. “It won't happen again.”

“No,” Hux said. “It won't. Where do you have your phone? You're going to need both hands for this.”

“I put it on speaker,” Ren replied.

“Are your flatmates home?”

“Not yet.”

“Good,” Hux said. “Tell me when they are.” He left Ren to wonder what the knowledge would trigger. If they returned, he fully intended to speak louder and demand an answering increase in volume from Ren.

“Now.” Hux directed. “Lean over your bed.”

“Ok,” Ren breathed.

“I want you to reach back and pull out the plug. Quickly.” He didn't need to ask if Ren had already removed it. He knew the answer was no. Ren made a guttural noise and Hux heard something hit the bed. “Good boy,” Hux said, curving his tongue around the words.

“Now, I want you to reach back, and slide one finger around your hole in a circle until I tell you to stop.” He heard a gasp from Ren and waited for a few moments. “Are you doing what I told you?”

“Yes,” Ren answered,

“Do you like that?” Hux asked, his voice going thick.

Ren made a lovely sound. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

“Are you still wet?”

“A little bit – ah –”

The sound went straight to Hux's cock, and he slid his hand down, running the base of his palm along his length. “Slick up two fingers,” he instructed Ren patiently, then nodded as if Ren could see him when he heard the click of the cap. “Have you done it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Work them inside, as deep as you can go.” The wanton sound Ren made in return told Hux he was obeying his every command. “I want you to fuck yourself,” Hux demanded. “Pretend it's me standing behind you. I'm pressing my fingers in slowly and pulling them back out, twisting my knuckles to hit you exactly where you want.”

“God.” Ren breathed the word, stretching out the single syllable. “I'm – ah!”

“Are you that close already?” Hux asked.

“I've been close all day,” Ren whined. Hux bit down on his lip.

“Take yourself in hand,” Hux commanded. Ren grunted and Hux imagined the angle his orders required. His own cock twitched again in response, and Hux mirrored the order he'd just given.

He could have held off. He did have _some_ discipline, or at least he used to. Instead he slipped his boxers down and kicked them out of his way. His touch was a bit rough, if easier than the task he set out for Ren, and he fumbled in the bedside drawer. Hux suppressed a coarse sound at the cool, wet slide when his hand returned. He was glad Ren couldn't see him. He was supposed to be in control of the situation, and yet here he was, hard and aching from the sounds through the phone and the knowledge that his own words provoked them.

“Have you done what I asked?” Hux asked, and Ren gave wordless assent. A series of grunts and gasps spilled into Hux's ear and went straight to his cock.

“Are you going to come?” Hux's voice sounded breathless and he slid his thumb under the head of his dick.

“May I?” Ren asked, or something like it. He wasn't really forming coherent words anymore.

“You may,” Hux said, bestowing his blessing. Ren's shout was loud enough for his neighbors to hear. Hux imagined what he looked like, still leaning over the bed, off-balance, fingers shoved inside his ass. Hux's eyelids fluttered closed and he pulled on his cock, alternating with a hard push on the downstroke.

“Are you – Hux, are you –”

“No,” he groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Ren gave a low, greedy sound. “I like making you feel good.”

“You're not _making_ me do anything,” Hux insisted with emphasis. He rolled his hips up and back, dragging his foreskin up and over the swollen head. His cock leaked precome over his hand and he spread it down the shaft.

“I want to hear you,” Ren begged, pushing Hux closer. “Please, sir, let me hear you,” and how was Hux supposed to say no to that?

He let his mouth fall open, breathing heavily into the phone. He wasn't sure why he hadn't grabbed his headset earlier, but he sure as hell didn't feel like looking for it now. Hux let out a moan, stroking himself harder and faster. “I want you on your knees for me,” he said, hoping Ren would catch on.

“Yes sir,” Ren breathed. “With the lights off, pressed up against the doors. Anyone could walk by and see us like this.”

“Yes,” Hux breathed. He liked that idea very, very much.

“You let me unzip you, and pull down your pants, and that's all you're wearing, nothing underneath, so I can just take you in my mouth.”

“I think I've got your hands tied,” Hux countered, his breath hitching. “I made you pull down my zipper with your teeth and get to work.”

“God, yes,” Ren moaned. “You can tie me up whenever you want.”

“You're damn right I can,” Hux agreed. “And I plan on it.”

“You know I'll do whatever you want, right?” Ren sounded desperate to please, and Hux wanted to keep him that way forever. “I swear to god, I will do any fucking thing, just tell me –”

“I thought I told you to get to work,” Hux hissed through clenched teeth.

Ren whimpered. “I've got my lips wrapped around you, sliding up, and down, and you're so hard for me, Hux, you taste so good, I want to do this all night.”

“Are you going to take all of me? Swallow me down like the little slut you are?” Hux squeezed his way up his shaft, imagining Ren's mouth enveloping him, hot and wet. He knew just how talented that tongue could be.

“Down to the root, sir,” Ren promised. “I'll suck you hard, working your shaft with my tongue, running it underneath just the way you like, along that vein, licking up to your head.” Hux grunted out a breath, pushing his thumb along the underside of his cock, following Ren's words. He was so close it was almost painful.

“I love that you're not cut, god it's so hot, I want to play with all that skin, get my tongue just barely underneath it, and –”

“Fffuck,” Hux gasped out, a harsh breath chasing the word. He kept his hand moving as he came, nearly managing to keep his sheets clean. Nearly. Hux was panting and Ren still wasn't done.

“I'd drink every bit of it down, sir. Lick you clean.”

“Yes,” Hux said, “you will.” He laid there silently for a few minutes, hearing only breathing from the other end.

He was supposed to say something. That was how this worked, after all. “You know what I want you to do,” he managed.

“Yes, sir.” Ren answered. “I'll shower, and change the sheets.”

“Hospital corners,” Hux demanded, not even sure if that was possible on a futon. He wanted Ren to try, regardless.

“Yes sir, I will sir.” There was a shuffling sound on the other line, and Hux remembered today's gift.

“Did you open the envelope I gave you?” It really wasn't a question, it was an assumption.

“Yes, sir, ” Ren started, then paused as if unsure how to continue. Hux rolled his eyes, thankful that Ren couldn't see. It wasn't a difficult read, nor was it a challenging assignment. “If I - ”

“Yes?” Hux asked, deliberately sounding bored.

“If I get mine, then,” Ren stuttered, and Hux let out a low sound of irritation. “Does this mean that you – that we can –”

“Use your words,” Hux said in exasperation.

“Does this mean that you're going to fuck me, sir?”

“Yes,” Hux answered, his voice a low purr into the phone. “I'm going to fuck you raw. Going to fill you up and leave you dripping. Unless you're as filthy for everyone else as you are for me, in which case you don't deserve to feel my cock with nothing else between us.”

Ren made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob. “You know I'm not. Not with anyone else.”

“You had better not be,” Hux snapped, wishing he didn't sound so jealous of imaginary partners when he knew the cuff already signified Ren's faithfulness. Still, he could use his naturally suspicious mind to his advantage.

“I won't,” Ren said frantically. “I wouldn't. I promised, sir, it's just you.”

Hux allowed himself a satisfied smile. Ren was absolutely his, so completely under his thumb it was nearly sinful. The thought creeped in that he didn't deserve Ren's desire, didn't warrant such blind obedience. He wasn't the sort of man who deserved anything quite as good as that. Hux did what he usually did with intrusive thoughts and strangled them in their infancy. _It doesn't matter if I deserve it or not_ , Hux thought. _I'm taking it._

Hux decided the worst thing he could do after that entertaining diversion would be to return to business as usual, as though nothing had ever happened between them. It would cause Ren to question his behavior, question Hux's interest in him. He might even begin to question his own sanity. Those were all lovely thoughts, and so Hux decided to do just that.

Two days later, Hux found a crisp white envelope of good stock in his office, the bottom perfectly squared with the lines of his desk. His favorite pen sat below it, gold enamel embossed with an H along the grip, precisely halfway between the envelope and the edge of the wood. Hux closed his eyes and let out a pleased sigh. Ren had been paying attention, after all.

 

Hux was particularly pleased with his assembly for the next package. It was the largest box yet, made to accommodate the pair of stiff leather bands inside. Meant to be worn above the elbow, each band had a clasp to one side and a sturdy steel D-ring attached to the back. They were thick enough to withstand a moderate amount of pressure, but not so large as to be obvious beneath Ren's shirts. A pentagonal key, larger than the first and molded to fit the clasps, nestled into the fabric beside them. A tin of saddle soap and a simple note lined the bottom.

_Break them in._

 

Hux had always loved the sound of rain, but not the crack and sizzle of lightning when it struck. It usually came as an unpleasant surprise, with his head buried in an inventory manifest or the sales figures from last week. This time the subject of his distraction had just walked onto the sales floor, impeccably dressed but still several minutes late. He glared at Ren's back while he punched in at the terminal. If he'd arrived early for his shift as expected, he would have had plenty of time to examine the package waiting inside his locker. Punctuality was the least of what Hux expected from him.

Hux watched Ren greet a customer he knew by name, a genuine smile on his lips. Grabbing a stack of returns from behind the counter, he ruffled one of the new hires’ hair with friendly affection. Xan swatted him away in annoyance, and Molly giggled at them in the middle of a transaction, leaving her customer with a bemused expression.

Ren seemed in excellent spirits, and as such, Hux thought a punishment might be in order. His mind traveled down a winding path of possibilities, each more intriguing than the last. He'd just settled on another thorough spanking over his knee when a brilliant white light strobed through the windows, leaving a maze of afterimages across his vision.

The lights flickered, dimming for a moment as the thunder roared overhead. The large glass windows shook and rattled in their frames. A nervous hum filled the store as customers looked up from their browsing and took notice of the world outside. Hux could feel the charge against his skin, hairs standing on end. It filled him with a restless unease, the echoing crash of the storm still loud in his ears.

Even anticipating the crack of thunder, the sound still pushed against him like a wave, testing his balance. Thoughts of tardiness and discipline faded as the light in through the windows bled too brightly, the ordinary sounds of the shop just a little too loud in his ears. Hearing each footstep, each tap on a key, Hux decided on a strategic withdrawal before it got any worse.

He left off arranging a new end cap, catching Autumn's attention and diverting her efforts to the task. An important phone call, he explained. He'd nearly forgotten about it. She waved him off and swiftly reorganized what he'd begun, channeling her visual arts degree into the task. Hux managed a brief, tight smile, knowing the task was in good hands. Another purple-white flash preceded its thunderous callback, and a heavy rain fell all at once to drown the world without.

Hux focused on the new sound, planning his steps carefully as he left the floor in favor of his office. He had just turned down the blinds, thick wooden slats like armor, when he heard a soft tap at the door. It wasn't closed entirely, and Hux heard his name spoken as a question.

“Hux?” Ren's voice was soft so as not to carry.

“Come in,” Hux answered. It occurred to him that with all the noise from the heavy rain, no one would hear the slap of a hand against bare skin. The idea steadily gained appeal as Ren opened the door just wide enough to slip inside before shutting it behind him.

Glancing between Ren and the door, Hux raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” he asked. “Can I help you?”

Ren unbuttoned his shirt – spotless white, over black jeans – and carefully removed it, hanging it from a coat hook on the wall. He turned back to face Hux and averted his eyes, kneeling down on the floor without a word. The leather bands fit snugly around his arms above the elbow and Hux felt a surge of pride in his chest. A trickle of warmth traveled down to curl in his belly. _Mine_.

Stepping out from behind his desk, Hux moved in for a closer inspection. His head bowed, Ren held his arms rigidly behind his back as if tied, and Hux could hear the clink of metal where the rings met. Hux admired the lines of Ren's body, his shoulders straight, his neck arching down in a graceful curve. The grey fabric of his t-shirt stretched tight across his back and upper arms, muscles standing out from the effort.

“So beautiful like this,” Hux mused, reaching down to stroke one hand through Ren's hair. “Do you like your gifts?”

Ren nodded. “They suit you,” Hux said, brushing his fingers along the patch of skin just above one band. A small shiver rippled across Ren's shoulders. Thoughts of punishing him fled as a new idea overtook Hux's racing thoughts.

“I do like you on your knees. Always so eager to please me.” Ren drew in a sharp breath before tilting his head up. His wide, hopeful gaze lit on Hux's face, then dropped down to his belt.

“May I?” he asked breathlessly.

Hux favored Ren with a benevolent smile and reached behind him to lock the door.

 

Ren’s good mood lasted far longer than Hux expected. He showed up on time, shirts pressed, hair neat, taking initiative to complete difficult or tedious tasks before Hux could even assign them. He took home books to read, as was allowed, and returned them in pristine condition. His customer service was excellent, his temper a thing of the past. Hux couldn’t have been more pleased. It was time, he thought, for another reward.

His next gift for Ren required an oblong box. Hux had the vibrator expedited from a catalog he'd only browsed curiously before. It curved just right, with small silicone beads increasing in diameter as they neared the base. It came with a remote, and an app that would let him set it off from anywhere in the world.

That phrase stayed with him throughout the day. Anywhere in the world. He could travel Europe for a single copy of a rare first edition and still drive Ren wild with unexpected pleasure. He could visit an old friend in Melbourne and still make Ren come over and over at his command. Hell, he could go back to Nairobi or Reykjavik just because he loved the people there and make sure Ren felt every minute he was gone.

If it occurred to him that he could probably accomplish those things over the phone, Hux didn't dwell on it. If the thought burrowed into the back of his mind that he could take Ren with him on any of those imagined trips, Hux refused to entertain it. That level of optimism would only lead to disappointment later.

When Ren walked out from the back on that particular morning, Hux paid him no mind. He noticed the furtive glances Ren cast his way, and tried to conceal his amusement. He knew the vibrator would have weighed a bit more than an ordinary plug of similar make, but it was of a high quality material and Hux hoped to keep its secret disguised.

Hux waited an hour before triggering it on the lowest setting. He held it for three seconds, appearing to check his email or texts or something similarly ordinary. He heard a noise from across the shop and watched Ren's hasty retreat toward the restroom with a terrible sort of glee. There wouldn't be a punishment for his body's reaction, not this time. Hux set it off several more times, turning to face a nearby shelf while imagining Ren's frantic efforts behind the locked door.

Hux could just see him, trousers crumpled around his ankles, briefs shoved down to his knees. He might have one hand braced against the wall, the other pulling frantically at his cock, not even fully hard yet but still desperate to come. Each new pulse would send a shiver through him that turned into shakes, vibrating against his prostate in just the right way. Hux imagined the way Ren would bite his lip to keep from crying out when he finally came, shuddering through it as Hux refused to relent.

It was nearly twenty minutes before he reappeared, making some excuse about a stomach bug. It kept the rest of the staff well clear, as Ren must have known it would. One of the vibrator's selling points was its near silent operation, and Hux planned to take advantage of it as often as possible.

Hux kept his conduct entirely professional for the remainder of the day. He hoped that Ren would spend his shift on edge, expecting a punishment that never came. Hux set the vibe off a few more times, brief pulses that Ren managed to work through without complaint. The effect was even more satisfying than Hux had hoped.

Hux caught him lingering in the back hallway, just outside the break room after all the closing tasks had been completed. “Yes?” Hux asked, hardly looking up from his phone. Ignoring someone had never felt this rewarding.

“Is there anything else you'd like me to do, sir?” Ren's voice was quiet as Cassie grabbed her satchel from the break room. It was hand-painted with a portrait of Maleficent that always gave Hux the creeps. She gave them a sly look while buckling up a pair of steel-toed boots, and Hux wondered as usual just what the hell she got up to after her evening shifts.

“No,” Hux replied once they were alone. “Not particularly. Have a good evening.” Ren stared at him for a long moment, and Hux headed for his office. He heard Ren rummaging around in his locker and leaving through the back door. Glancing through the blinds, Hux waited until he'd just gotten settled in his car before setting the vibrator off again.

Hux made sure it was a long night for Ren. He was fairly used to running on little to no sleep, but knew for a fact that Ren was not. He set the plug off at irregular intervals, rotating the length and number of seconds between. Hux waited for his phone to light up with a message or even a call, but it never did. Interesting. He dozed a bit around three a.m., and upon waking sent a lengthy series of pulses in the hopes it would bring Ren out of the one good chance he'd have at sleep. Hux wished he could spy on Ren's dreams, or just see his face every time he turned on the vibe, but he supposed that was missing the point.

It didn't stop him from imagining Ren waking up soaked and sticky, cock still twitching from his recent release. It didn't hold at bay the thought of Ren reaching down with one hand, coating his fingers in his own come and urging himself toward a second orgasm, still riding the heels of the last. Hux sent several more pulses in quick succession, still caught up in the idea before drifting off into blessedly uncomplicated dreams.

 

Hux made his way downstairs the next morning looking as well-rested as possible. Sharply pressed khaki trousers and a crisp white shirt supported the image, his hair lightly gelled and styled. He walked through the break room to grab a pastry and leaned against the counter, watching. Ren had just slouched through the door and Hux couldn't wait to see the results of his teasing.

Tossing a backpack into his locker that seemed mostly held together with tape, Ren pulled out a clean black shirt. His thin t-shirt had once been red, and had some sort of striped candy logo on the front. Hux doubted he would ever break the code of Ren's odd choice in apparel. He tried to pull his hair back, but the clear elastic broke, and Ren threw it across the room. Only then did he seem to notice Hux stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest with a horrible smirk.

“I swear to god, Hux, if you so much as talk to me right now,” Ren didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. His eyes were red and looked a bit swollen, dark circles forming beneath. That was his, Hux thought with a bone deep satisfaction. He left those marks without even being present.

Hux moved to stand behind Ren at his locker. He ran a hand lightly down Ren's side over the soft fabric of his t-shirt, resting on his right hip. Ren leaned back against him, letting out a soft moan at the contact. Hux thought back to the day in his office when Ren was desperate and trembling and Hux had every intention of provoking that reaction again.

Hux leaned forward and tongued at Ren's earlobe, pulling it into his mouth to bite down gently. “You don't mean that,” he whispered against Ren's neck. He slipped his left hand under Ren's shirt, sliding it across his stomach. Ren's skin was hot, and Hux toyed with the hair just above his jeans.

“You're such a whore for me, I bet you're getting wet already.” Hux slid his hand down from Ren's hip to stroke his cock through his jeans, where he could feel Ren starting to get hard. Hux pressed his hips forward against Ren's ass, letting him feel his own building arousal. He got in another long stroke down beside his zipper before Ren interrupted.

“Don’t,” he gasped, arching his back in what must have been pain instead of pleasure. Hux stopped, sliding his hand up to press gently against Ren’s stomach. He shifted his hips back, giving Ren room without quite relinquishing his loose hold.

“All right?” he asked quietly. Ren made a frustrated sound.

“You weren’t actually supposed to stop,” he said, still breathless.

Hux tightened his hold and pulled Ren back against him. “That is a conversation we need to have,” he said, pressing his lips against the shell of Ren’s ear. Ren nodded, and Hux knew he should send him out onto the floor, knew he shouldn’t touch him at all until they discussed when stop actually meant stop, but Ren was a furnace in his arms and his good sense had long gone out the window. That unplaceable herbal scent rose from his skin and his buried his face in Ren’s hair.

“I thought about you all night,” Hux murmured, his hand sliding further south.

“I noticed,” Ren answered, thrusting his hips up to meet Hux’s strokes.

He made helpless sounds as Hux palmed him to hardness through his jeans. They were looser than the sort Ren normally wore, and Hux decided to use that to his advantage. He slid his left hand out from beneath Ren's shirt to rest in the small of his back. He stayed there a moment, stroking Ren's skin before sliding down beneath the waistband of his jeans and under the boxers he found there.

Ren breathed shallow and uneven and Hux took it for encouragement. He kneaded his fingers into the meat of Ren’s ass, working his way down the cleft. Feeling the flared base of the plug, he ran one finger around it in a slow circle. Ren arched his back with a whine, and Hux spared a moment's thought to be grateful it was only Mitaka in the store with them. Any noises he might hear would send him straight back to the front end.

He pressed up on the plug and relished the bestial sound it dragged from Ren's mouth. After adjusting to a new shape inside him and being tormented with it all night, Hux knew Ren had to be sore. He imagined how it must feel, having to take the toy out, then work it back in, his body swollen and aching. Hux repeated the motion again and again, thrusting the plug in farther before letting it slide back.

“I hate you so much,” Ren gasped. Hux pushed in hard, and he could feel Ren try to hold back a wanton sound without success.

“Is that any way to speak to me?” Hux asked with a hint of smugness in his tone. He sped up the timing of his thrusts. Ren held on to the top of the lockers, shifting back against the plug with every push. “I've been far too lenient with you already.”

Ren breathed in harsh sobs, and Hux took his hand off Ren's jeans to run across his cheek. Ren moaned at the loss of contact and turned his cheek into Hux's touch. His fingers came away wet and Hux couldn't remember the last time he'd been this aroused.

Caution flew out the window. Hux nearly pulled the button off Ren's jeans before unzipping him, shoving the boxers down. They were a rich, dark blue and Hux bit his lip to stop the sound trying to escape. Hux stroked the skin beside Ren's cock, red and swollen and leaking white at the tip. He had no intention of getting Ren off when he walked into the room, but watching Ren fall apart in his hands was now the only thing he wanted.

“Touch me,” Ren begged. “Oh god, please, sir, touch me,” and Hux still hadn't stopped pushing the plug in deep and fast. Ren rocked back and forth and Hux didn't think either of them could stop. He wrapped his hand around the base of Ren's cock and slid up slowly, knowing he couldn't keep any sort of rhythm between them both. It felt electric, finally having his hand on Ren like this. Every line they crossed just made Hux eager to break through more. Ren's cock twitched in his hand, and Hux pushed the plug in and held it fast, redirecting his attentions. He stroked Ren fast and rough and Ren whimpered before pulsing hard in Hux's hand. It was almost dry, but a spray of come still dotted the inside of the locker.

Hux didn't stroke him through it, dropping his hand while Ren's cock was still twitching. After one last push, he withdrew his left hand from the base of the plug. “Clean up your mess,” Hux said briskly, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. After several minutes and several pumps of acrid, antimicrobial soap, Hux finally began to feel clean. He turned off the steaming jet and wiped his scalded hands on a paper towel. Ren no longer stood at his locker, but Hux could smell the chemical spray he must have used on it.

Hux planned on ignoring him for a few hours before setting off the vibe again.

 

The next day saw another note dropped off in Ren's locker. _Decide on a safe word and write it below._ Hux hoped to god Ren understood what that meant, and that if he didn't he would look it up. Hux supposed he should give Ren as much time as he needed to decide on one, but he hoped it would only take a few days at most. Hux was beginning to get impatient.

Actually laying hands on Ren in the break room had been so satisfying that Hux had decided to escalate the situation. He'd received several packages lately, all delivered in discreet brown wrappers without a return address, and was eager to have a use for them. If Ren responded appropriately, Hux would invite him upstairs, lay out a few ground rules, and see what happened from there.

He didn't want to think about Ren backing out now. It left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut, but he knew he would abide by Ren's decision. Hux would never describe himself as a _good_ person, but he wasn't so horrible as to hold Ren's job over his head in return for – well, whatever this was. If he didn't explicitly define it, he wouldn't be as disappointed when it inevitably ended.

It took two days for the note to find its way to his desk, left precisely arranged as before. Ren's loose, slanted handwriting contrasted sharply with Hux's blocky print above, and consisted of just one word: _RED._

 


	7. Chapter 7

Hux had been gentle with the vibrator since that first night, if such a word could ever be applied to him. He set it off occasionally during Ren's shifts, and more frequently at night, but not with the goal of depriving Ren of sleep entirely. He wouldn't have an employee falling asleep over the espresso maker. The layer of control it provided was delicious, but even Hux had to sleep sometime.

Of course, sometimes Ren’s behavior simply asked for it. Hux caught him lingering by the graphic novels once again, making only the barest attempt to sell them while catching up with Rook and the goggle-wearing drummer. Both looked duly concerned when Kylo grabbed at the shelf, fixing Hux with a look of contrition. Hux turned away with a smirk and set it off again. 

After finding Ren’s choice written out on his desk, Hux texted him that night. Ren worked an evening shift the next day, and Hux had plans for him.

_ You may remove the plug _ , _ if you wish.  _ Hux received a response almost immediately.

_         Thank you, sir. _

_ Arrive at 2:00 tomorrow prepared to stay late. Wear the cuffs. _

 

Mid-week evenings tended to be slow, though plenty enough customers came in for coffee. Hux kept Ren and Amy busy behind the coffee bar, to keep Ren both occupied and well-supervised. Amy treated him fondly but steadfastly refused to take any of his shit. They were almost of a height and got on so well they might have been siblings if they looked even remotely alike. Hux had heard them discussing tattoos, Amy pulling back her sleeves to show off the delicate vines that curled around her arms and shoulders, trailed by words he could never quite make out. 

Hux hadn’t seen any ink marring Ren’s skin, and the mystery made him eager to expose every inch of pale flesh in search of it. Ren caught him staring and stared back for a moment before daring to give Hux a wink. Hux regretted allowing him to remove the plug. It would have been a perfect time to bring him to his knees.

The staff left one by one as the evening wound down and the sign switched from Open to Closed. No one ever seemed surprised anymore when Ren volunteered to stay late and take the rest of the closing duties. Once everything had been done to Hux's exacting standards – and he was sure of it, having gone behind Ren as he checked off each item on the list – Ren waited at the counter to end his shift.

Hux stepped beside him and placed his hand over Ren's on the mouse, selecting each option on the screen before logging him out. Ren didn't move, and Hux ran his hand along the base of Ren's neck, sliding up into his hair. Ren leaned into the touch and Hux smiled.

He let his hand drop and turned off the screen, walking toward the back to kill the lights. Ren didn't move, and Hux didn't look back. The store went dark, and Hux paused at the door to the loft. “Come here,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Ren left the registers and moved to join Hux as he selected the correct key from a ring and unlocked the door. Hux took Ren gently by the elbow and nudged him through the doorway where the steps led up to the loft. “You will not speak unless expressly permitted, or if you need to stop.” Ren nodded his understanding. “Good boy.”

Gently prodding Ren forward, Hux ascended the stairs behind him. “I'm closing this door behind us,” Hux said, one hand on the knob. “But it will never be locked against you.” He stroked Ren's back as he guided him up the staircase, around the small landing, and through the second door into the loft space.

“This door will stay open as long as you're here,” Hux ran his fingers softly through Ren's hair. “Do you understand?” Ren nodded again, making a pleased hum at the brief contact. Hux hoped Ren actually understood that he wasn't trapped here and never would be. He hated repeating himself.

Hux turned on two dim lamps at opposite ends of the room and pulled on the pair of leather driving gloves he'd left on the kitchen worktop. Ren looked around the room, eyes wide as he took it all in. Hux was pleased that Ren seemed to like his minimalist living space. Inviting someone like Ren into his retreat from the noise and confusion of the world outside was potentially disastrous, but tonight, it seemed worth the risk. And it wasn't 'someone like Ren,' it  _ was  _ Ren. The world certainly couldn't handle more than one of him.

Hux turned back to see Ren's roving gaze stop, fixed on a sturdy ring that hung from the central beam. The chain that suspended it well above Ren's head was thick and able to support a good deal of weight. Hux had tested it with a series of pull ups spread out over a few days, and it hadn't shown any sign of budging.

“It didn't come with the building,” Hux said as if discussing a couch. “It should be just the right height for you.” Ren reached up and set it to turning with one finger, watching it spin. Hux rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, a white oxford crisp when the day started, but now worn down.

Ren hooked his fingers around the ring, turning toward Hux with ill-concealed lust. “You made something just for me?” Ren asked in a joking tone at odds with the stare pinning Hux with his back to the worktop.

Hux sighed. Things had been going so well, and then Ren had to speak. Again, he wished he still had the vibrator to set off in response to Ren's insolence. As gut reactions went, that would have been a much better one to have. In the absence of a button to push, Hux proceeded calmly across the floor and delivered a fierce backhanded strike to Ren's cheek.

Ren stumbled back, grabbing the ring for support. He didn't fall, and neither did the ring. A look of shock passed briefly across his face before he ducked his head in subservience. Hux made a pleased sound.

“Only when spoken to,” he reiterated. Ren nodded, eyes on the floor.

Despite his disobedience, Ren's interest in the ring was heartening. Hux hadn't been sure he would even get to use it this time.  _ This time _ , Hux echoed in his mind. There might not be another time. It wouldn’t do to get his hopes up. He shook the thought away and retrieved a strip of soft black fabric from a bar chair, returning to the clear area in the center of the room.

“Remove your shoes,” he directed, and Ren let go the ring, kneeling to unlace his trainers. When he looked up, Hux nodded toward the door, and Ren managed to intuit his meaning. He set the shoes down by the door, laces tucked in, heels backed up to the brick.

“Take off your shirt,” Hux ordered, moving to stand behind him. Ren’s fingers moved to the buttons, and Hux saw they were just barely shaking. He shrugged out of the shirt and Hux took it from him, hanging it over a chair back. The bands on his arms had been worn in nicely, the leather flexible and supple. Hux ran a thumb across one, pleased. 

“This one too,” Hux said with a tug on the sleeve of his t-shirt. Hux watched the muscles flex in his arms and shoulders as the dark fabric slid over Ren’s head. His back was broad and well-muscled, but that wasn’t what made Hux stop in his tracks and stare. Dozens of thick blue lines connected pinpoints in recognizable patterns across Ren's back. Constellations, he realized. It was a star chart.

Reaching out, Hux traced the patterns with a light touch, beginning with Scorpius at the center of Ren's back and spiralling out through Libra, Lupus, Ara, and Sagittarius. Ren shivered as he continued his exploration, fingertips meeting Corona Australis and Serpens, perching high on his spine. The ring swung gently back and forth overhead, casting shadows in shifting patterns across the stars.

Hux thought back to the date of birth on Ren's paperwork and connected the central piece on his back. Of course. If astrology hadn't been complete and utter bullshit, the sign would have fit Ren well. How had this been under Ren's clothes the entire time Hux had known him? It seemed impossible that he had never seen it before.

“It's not finished,” Hux remarked, tracing gaps where other stars should be.

Ren shook his head, and Hux wondered how long it had been in progress. Each tattoo was a spare, simple design that couldn't have cost very much, but Hux was sure each penny had been dear. He couldn't seem to take his fingers away from the patterns.

“Why?” Hux asked, perfectly aware that not all tattoos carried any particular meaning, but surely this must.

“I needed somewhere to set my sights,” Ren answered softly, tensing his shoulders. Hux realized Ren probably expected mockery, or else punishment. Hux intended just the opposite.

“Per aspera, ad astra,” Hux murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Ren's spine. God, but he was a wonder. Ren nodded at his words, letting out a long, unstable breath and Hux realized it was the first time he'd really kissed any part of his skin. He wanted to immediately do it again. He didn't.

Hux drew back instead and wound the black cloth through both of his hands. Leaning forward again, he covered Ren's eyes. He moved slowly, waiting for a negative response, but never received one. He tied the fabric tightly in the back so it wouldn't slip. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ren replied.

Good, Hux thought. He didn't plan on asking again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hux knew that might be a problem, but it was a small voice, and easy to ignore.

“Remove your trousers,” Hux ordered next.

Ren was quick to comply, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding down the zipper. When he lifted one leg to pull it free of the fabric, he stumbled and nearly toppled over. Hux held back any assistance, pleased when Ren managed to right himself.

“You're going to have to work on your balance,” Hux said with nonchalance, deciding to leave off any explanation. Ren finished his task and stood holding the jeans in his hands. Hux inspected the pair of tight black briefs that hugged Ren's hips. Low slung and nearly see through, they were obviously a recent purchase. Ren had dressed up for him, in his own way. The thought curled warm in his gut. Hux wondered if Ren would accept similar gifts, the idea of dressing him in more than the loose work uniform gaining rapid appeal.

“Now fold them,” Hux continued, “and place them on the worktop.” Ren paused for a moment before feeling his way around the seams on his jeans and making a tolerable attempt. Hux led him toward the kitchen boundary with a gentle, steering touch on his back. Ren placed his jeans neatly on the concrete block and waited for further instruction.

Hux turned Ren around and shoved him hard toward the open space. He had planned on a graduated slope of intensity, but Ren's interest had overridden his design. Ren stumbled, tripping over his own feet, and Hux steadied him with a light grip on the back of his arms. Ren stilled in place until Hux forced him forward again, acclimating a bit more with each forceful push. The ring still swung ever so slightly above Ren's head when Hux allowed him to stop.

Hux lifted Ren's arms away from his body and urged them toward the ring hanging high overhead. Ren's fingers grasped the metal almost immediately, and Hux was pleased to see that his measurements had been correct. 

“Stay,” Hux said lightly, taking a few short steps down to the couch. A length of thick, dark rope hung over the cushion, and Hux let it slide through his fingers as he returned to Ren’s side. He dragged a short stool over with one foot, stepping up to better reach the ring. Tying a bowline to the ring itself, he wrapped the rope around Ren’s wrists, securing them in a sturdy lark’s head knot. He wasn’t planning on trying suspension, at least not yet; the binding just had to hold Ren’s hands in place. 

Sliding the stool out of the way, Hux admired his handiwork. Ren looked beautiful like this, the muscles across his shoulders and back on display. His kept his head up, as if staring straight ahead across the darkened space. Hux waited a moment for Ren to get used to the position before continuing on.    

A black silicone ring sat beside a small bottle of lube on the end table next to the couch, where Hux had left it for convenience. He hadn't really known where things would go when he was setting up for this, both figuratively and literally. Hux stretched the silicon ring between his thumb and forefinger, his free hand rubbing a light coating of lubricant along the inner and outer surfaces. 

Returning to where he’d left him, Hux trailed his slick fingers down Ren's back, enjoying the shiver it provoked. Hux tugged Ren's briefs down and pinched at the skin around his cock, urging the blood to travel elsewhere until he had gone soft enough. Ren winced, but never said no. Hux was pleased to see that Ren was neatly trimmed, curly black hairs still present but not in the way. Hux slid the ring down to the base and Ren gave a breathy moan at the touch, unable to see just what he intended. Hux tugged it into place and pulled Ren's briefs completely off.

He crossed to the fridge and filled a small metal bowl with ice from the freezer, setting it down on the small end table closest to Ren. Hux lifted an ice cube from the tray and held it just below Ren's chin, starting a slow slide down his throat. Ren's breath caught at the sensation. The ice began to melt the instant it contacted flesh, sending a thin stream of water down his chest. Hux moved lower along Ren's sternum, sliding his hand to the left and circling Ren's nipple, already hard and flushed. Ren gasped and Hux pressed down as the last of the ice melted away. Hux dragged wet fingertips across Ren's chest, leaving his left hand in contact while he picked up another cube. He started from the center, this time sliding the ice to the right until it contacted the nipple there. Slow circles of motion drew out one labored breath after another, and when the ice had melted away, Hux gave his right nipple a hard flick. Ren cried out and Hux reached with his left hand to pinch the other. Ren's head fell back as he gasped for breath.

Hux lingered there a moment, drinking in the sight of him, muscles tensed, long neck exposed, just ripe for bruising. Grabbing one more cube, he traced the elegant slope of Ren’s neck before bringing it to his mouth and tracing his lips. They parted obediently and Hux pushed what was left of the cube inside. 

Thoughts swirled in his mind of all the things he could do to Ren while he had him here. An image stood out of drawing one nipple into his mouth, and the sound Ren would make if he bit down. How it would feel to reach down and stroke his cock, pushing him past the point of pleasure and into the realm of pain as the ring restricted his release. Beautiful thoughts, all, but Hux had something different in mind when he’d planned out his course. 

A long, flexible riding crop sat propped up on the arm of the couch, and he reached for it. Hux had tested it on himself to determine what sort of sensations he could provoke with it and been extremely pleased with the range. Returning to where Ren stretched, suspended, he snapped the crop against his palm. The sound echoed loud in the space and Ren tensed to hear it. Hux repeated the gesture as he circled around, seeking to keep Ren off balance. Stepping back, he ran the soft leather pad down Ren's spine, pulling away when he reached the cleft of his ass. He could hear Ren draw in a deep breath. 

The first strike hit straight across Ren's cheeks, and Ren jerked forward with a stifled shout. Hux had planned on marking as much skin as was available, but he hadn't counted on the back piece in progress. It was too beautiful to risk marring. He kept his strikes low, from the small of Ren's back down across his thighs. Ren's fingers gripped the ring hard as Hux continued, working up and then back down. He reached up to bring the crop down across the backs of Ren's arms, drawing out another cry. Ren didn't bother to hide the sound this time, and Hux thrilled to hear it. 

Ren took it well, his knees bending a bit when the crop struck already red lines and welts a second time. The ropes at his wrists strained, and Hux knew he should stop, knew it had gone on too long for Ren's well-being, but it sated a need deep in his chest that Hux hadn't known existed. It was more than control, it was instant gratification, and it marked Ren in a way that no amount of street fights could ever replicate. Ren was his, and no one else’s. Horribly, Hux wanted the scars to prove it. Ren never once used the safeword, and Hux brought the crop down over and over until he could see red marks rising in the shape of the leather tongue.

Ren's grip on the ring began to slip, his breathing slow and even. His fingers fell away, relying entirely on the knots to hold him up. The muscles across his shoulders had steadily relaxed over the course of the beating and Hux put the crop aside. 

Stepping around to Ren’s front, Hux reached up to gently loosen the knots and massage Ren’s wrists. He rubbed Kylo’s hands, gone a bit pale, until the color crept back in, whispering soothing nonsense. He wasn't counting on Ren falling forward against him when he pulled his hands free, and Hux steadied them both with some difficulty. Ren wrapped his arms loosely around Hux's neck, and Hux allowed it, running his hands over Ren's upper back. They held each other for a long moment, Ren's skin warm and flushed, his cheek wet with tears against Hux's neck. It was perfect, and Hux wanted to keep it forever. 

Ren's substantial erection pressed wet against Hux's hip, and Hux had the dim thought that Ren might be ruining another pair of his trousers. These were tailored and expensive and he had chosen vanity over practicality, making it entirely his own fault. Hux didn’t really care at the moment, holding Ren close, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. 

Still, Ren wasn’t exactly light and Hux pushed him back just far enough for him to bear his own weight. He held Ren's arms, fingers pressing into the welts to bring him back into the present moment. Ren drew in a quick breath. “Can you stand?” Hux whispered, and Ren paused before shaking his head, no.

Hux lowered him down to his knees. He knelt in front of Ren and wiped the tears from his cheeks before making sure the blindfold was still secure. He had the strange thought that obscuring Ren's vision was as much for him as it was for Ren. If he had Ren's big doe eyes on him, Hux might have been kinder.

“Stay,” he ordered again, and Ren straightened his back with some effort. Hux knew the stripes on his thighs and calves were burning from the pressure. Hux had to close his eyes for a moment at the picture Ren made stripped naked for him, head down, black cloth barely brushing the stars scattered across his back.

When he could let go of the sight, Hux unbuttoned his shirt, damp from Ren's tears and sweat. He wasn't exactly shivering himself, and wearing only the white undershirt was more comfortable. A small key hung from his neck, and Hux retrieved two thick metal rings linked together from a square, black box on the couch. Kneeling down, Hux pulled Ren's left arm behind his back. He opened the ring and threaded it through the link on the leather band before repeating the motions on Ren's right. The rings snapped shut and Hux turned the key. Ren struggled to remain silent, adjusting to the restriction. 

This very image had been Hux's goal when he had the leather cuffs made. He wanted to keep Ren like this, chained, submissive to his every whim, but practicality intervened. Besides, Hux had to admit that Ren’s fire, his strength, and even his disobedience were a good part of the attraction. 

The skin beneath the bands was red and a bit raw from the frequent wear required to keep them supple. Hux rubbed his thumb across it to hear Ren's gasp. If the constriction proved to be too much, he could always find a better solution, but that was a concern for later. For tonight, the rings were locked and wouldn't come off until either they were finished or Ren's hands went cold.

Hux let his hand travel down to wrap around the bracelet at Ren’s wrist, one finger tracing the embossed letter at the clasp. Catching glimpses of it in the store, peeking out from where he hid it between the knotted leather bands had awoken something in Hux, something that led directly to this moment. It was a claim, an authority Hux had never wielded over another human being, and it was intoxicating. That Ren allowed it, had submitted perfectly to Hux’s design, only made it better.

Hux brushed his fingers lightly down Ren's back before pulling an identical piece from his pocket. The band was open, and he worked the flat bar between Ren’s cuff and his wrist before securing it on his other arm. Ren moaned at the feel of it, warm where Hux had carried it, recognizing the match. They might not hold against Ren's strength if it came down to it, but that wasn't the point. They didn't need to hold, because Ren would never try to break free.

Rising to his feet, Hux gave Ren a moment to adjust, walking around to admire the sight of him. The linked bands forced his shoulders to square, and the strain was visible in every line of his frame. Hux reached out a hand to stroke Ren's hair back from his face and Ren sighed at the touch. 

“All right?” Hux asked again, desperately hoping that it was. Ren was more beautiful like this than ever before. When Ren nodded, something quickened inside Hux and he licked his lips. He wondered if he should simply let Ren stay like this, seat him on the floor next to a chair while Hux read a novel or worked on next quarter’s budget. Would doing anything more be too much, or was this too little for Ren? There were so many more things Hux wanted to do. 

“Do you want to continue?” Hux asked softly, squatting down beside Ren to whisper in his ear. 

“Yes,” Ren answered with a decisive nod. “Please,” he added, his tone needy but surprisingly steady. 

“Stand up,” Hux commanded. He had cleared off the dining table in anticipation of bending Ren over it. Ren's vivid fantasy had lodged itself in Hux's mind, and he was eager to make it a reality. The table was made from rough looking wood, but the edges were sanded and sealed. Hux was reasonably certain it wouldn't give Ren splinters. Ren struggled to do as he was told, legs still shaky beneath him and his erection truly a sight to behold.

Hux tugged Ren along by one arm, pushing him up against the table. Despite Ren's stature, it sat at the perfect height. Hux had measured and made an educated guess, fully prepared to buy another if it was too high. He stroked Ren's back gently, mapping the stars with his fingers before shoving him down hard against the wood. Hux pushed his head down and to one side, the restraints tugging and shifting Ren's body forward. He rose up on the balls of his feet, leaving his red and swollen skin perfectly vulnerable. 

“Hold still,” Hux ordered. He ran his fingers across the smooth patches that remained on Ren's cheeks, on display for him. Ren squirmed beneath his touch. Sliding his left hand forward to stroke Ren's cock, Hux rubbed a circle around the ring. He was flushed and dripping, and Hux intended to see just how long he would last. He pulled back his right hand and struck Ren's ass cheek hard, aiming for the welts rising in angry red lines. The sound of his leather gloves striking flesh echoed loudly across the space. Ren gasped and jerked forward at the blow, but otherwise obeyed Hux's command.

He continued to strike Ren's flesh, alternating between his left and right cheeks, until the imprint of his palm joined the marks from the crop. Ren had only been told not to speak, not to be silent, and his wordless cries provided Hux with ample encouragement. One minute ecstatic and the next in agony, Ren endured the onslaught well. Hux paused several times, allowing the flesh to smart and grow more sensitive still. Now Hux felt his cock take notice, while his hand was in the air, when he struck down with force, when Ren cried out at his attentions. When his skin was against Ren's skin, rough and unrelenting.

Ren was breathing hard. Hux brushed his hand along Ren's fingers, pleased to find them warm if damp with sweat. He enjoyed the sight of Ren bound as much as Ren seemed to enjoy the restraints, and it would be a shame to set him free now. Hux let his hand drift down to the feverish skin he'd so recently struck, knowing it would swell and purple with bruises by tomorrow. Finding a small area free of marks, Hux gave a hard pinch and laughed at the harsh grunt it pulled from Ren's lips. 

He smacked Ren's ass again, and thought he saw the wet glisten of tears slide down his face. Hux leaned over Ren's body, resting on one elbow to take a closer look. Ren hadn't turned his head from where Hux had directed it, and Hux brushed back a patch of sweat-damp curls. Ren's lips were swollen from where he'd bitten them repeatedly. Tears had once again soaked through the blindfold and dripped down across his nose. Hux smiled at him, even knowing Ren couldn't see, and stroked the back of his hand down Ren's cheek. Ren's lips parted slightly, curving up at the corners, and Hux took it for continued permission.

Hux stood back up and pressed two fingers against the base of Ren's spine, rubbing against the sacrum. His fingers traveled slowly downward, sliding into the cleft between Ren's cheeks and circling the tight clutch of muscle there. He heard Ren let out a harsh breath and pressed his thumb up against his entrance, pushing up and in without penetrating just yet. Ren made a mewling sound that somehow sounded agreeable.

Hux peeled off his gloves to keep from ruining them. Another time, perhaps, or a full-fingered set. The thought was almost incendiary. Hux enjoyed the way Ren writhed in the absence of sensation, and deprivation immediately went on the list for later.

Hux stepped away for a long moment, listening to Ren's breath and watching his attempts to remain still. He picked up a small black jar from where he'd left it on the counter, and unscrewed the lid, resting it on the table. Ren drew in a breath that Hux hoped was anticipation at the sound. Dipping the tips of his fingers in the jar, Hux moved back between Ren's legs, watching the muscles begin to shake as he held himself in place. Hux pressed the cool gel to the ring of muscle already contracting before he even touched it. He circled Ren's entrance once more before pressing two fingers roughly inside. Ren cried out and jerked forward, then pressed slowly back.

Hux pushed deeper inside, crossing and uncrossing his fingers while rotating his wrist. Ren made delirious sounds that urged Hux on, curling his fingers with quick and unexpected movements. He found Ren's prostate and stroked hard against it before pulling out entirely. Ren seemed to choke and Hux leaned over him again, splaying wet fingers out across Ren's lower back. His breathing returned to normal, if a bit fast and shallow.

Hux pressed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades before lifting back up. He slicked his fingers again, pushing more lube past Ren's tight clench, massaging the skin outside with his thumb while stroking gently inside. His fantasies had once involved fast, rough penetration with the barest use of lubricant, but in those days that was all he'd known. Hux had never enjoyed being gentle, but Ren's trust encouraged him to at least be thorough.

Ren began to thrust back against his hand, and Hux gave his ass a fierce smack with his left. The show of disobedience left him a bit giddy, and Hux decided to expand his instructions. “You will not move or I will stop. Is that clear?”

Ren froze in place, but made a soft, despairing sound as Hux withdrew his fingers once again. Hux gave his ass a wet smack, and then another. He admired Ren laid out on the table before him, arms held back across an embroidery of stars. He wanted to push Ren further, push every button until he was mad from it but a small shred of better sense held him back. Maybe, he thought, maybe less could actually be more. Hux was sure that Ren fully expected to have his cock in him tonight and depriving Ren of that might be even better than his own release.  

He reached around to give Ren's restricted cock a few quick strokes, and he saw Ren bite his lip hard. Hux curved slightly over Ren's spine, his thrusts slowing as he aimed for that electric bundle of nerves inside. He reached for the jar and slicked up the fingers of his left hand before shoving it back out of the way. Hux ran his hand around Ren's chest, pinching his nipple before traveling down. His fingers, cool and slick, slid around Ren's cock and began to stroke in earnest. Ren remained still, only a few quiet gasps slipping out between his lips, and his thighs began to quiver.

Hux was pleased at the ring's success. Ren was hard and leaking, a vein standing out below his skin. Hux continued to thrust his fingers deep inside while twisting his wrist and stroking down. He heard a low, stifled moan from Ren and watched his muscles shift and bunch, held tight to keep from moving. His success was glorious to watch. 

“There’s a good boy, Kylo,” he praised. Hux had no real desire to stop, even if Ren deserved his punishment. In fact, he wanted to watch Ren explode. When his muscles stilled, once more under control, Hux smiled.

Hux let his hand linger mid-stroke on Ren's cock before resuming with a lighter touch. Ren took deep, gasping breaths, holding the air in for as long as possible before releasing it all in a rush. His cock twitched hard, but Ren held off without having been told. He mumbled something unintelligible, halfway between a desperate request and a groan.

“What's that, pet?” Hux whispered against Ren's ear. Ren's mouth dropped open, but no sounds issued out. “Use your words,” Hux drawled in condescension. Ren made helpless whimpers between gasps for air, and Hux tugged roughly on his hair. 

Leaning in to rest his cheek alongside Ren's, Hux took him in hand, stroking and squeezing. Ren stayed still as a statue. He choked on what sounded like a whine, and Hux decided to try again. “Tell me what you want,” he ordered, voice low and throaty with pleasure at the sight.

Ren stumbled on the syllables, but eventually recognizable words emerged. “Please,” he gasped. “Please sir, I – may I, please, I –?”

“May you what?” Hux asked, slow, gentle strokes gaining speed.

“ _ Please _ ,” Ren begged, delirious, his neck arching back. “May I come? Sir, I – ”

Hux dragged his hand rough along Ren's shaft before answering. “Yes, you may.” 

Ren gave a ragged, wet cry and shot in Hux's hand, his come streaking across the length of the table. Hux was impressed, as was his cock, giving a hard twitch in his trousers. He stroked Ren through his orgasm and beyond, balancing control with a small measure of comfort.

When he pulled away, Hux ran his hands up over Ren's abdomen, around his sides and up his back. Ren's muscles were tense and his entire body shuddered still. Hux wondered briefly if he could make Ren come again, but his head swam and his arms ached, and he thought he might have pushed too far already. He hadn’t known just how difficult it would be to stop once he’d really gotten started.

Keeping one hand on Ren’s back, Hux pulled the chain with the key over his head and unlocked the leather restraints. Ren let out a groan as his arms rebounded from the restriction, and Hux worked his fingers down the muscles, massaging them back to life. The cuffs were next, though Hux let his fingers linger at Ren’s wrist, stroking the sensitive skin around them for a few moments before unhooking them as well. Ren’s hands didn’t move, and Hux bent to kiss them each in turn before guiding them down to rest against the table. 

Hux stroked a hand down Ren’s back, soothing him through heaving breaths. Reaching around, he tugged the ring from the base of Ren's cock, coaxing it off with a small amount of lube. Ren made ugly, guttural sounds while Hux worked at it, finally pulling the ring free.

With one hand around Ren's chest, Hux slowly brought him up off the table until he stood, slouching back against him. The weight threw Hux off balance, and he turned Ren around, letting him lean back against the table. The solid edge against the scoring on his ass drew weak sounds of discomfort from Ren's mouth, and he shifted, still unable to stand properly. Hux leaned in and untied the blindfold, letting it slide to the ground.

“Stay here just a moment,” Hux advised softly, the air of command absent from his tone. Ren nodded, and Hux picked up the jar of lube, screwing the lid back on and carrying it into the kitchen. He left it beside the sink before running the water to scalding. An unevenly cut block of blue soap served to scrub his hands clean, and he rinsed the jar off as well. The scent woke him up a bit, as it was meant to, mint and a brush of rosemary rising through the steam.

Opening a cabinet, he pulled out a sturdy glass and filled it with cold water from the fridge door. Stepping out from behind the counter, Hux moved back to the table and offered it to Ren. Ren shook his head, sweat dripping from his hair and falling into his eyes. Hux frowned.

“Drink it,” he demanded, and Ren's hand instantly moved to take the glass. He tipped it up and swallowed every drop before letting his head fall forward once again. Hux reached out, moving Ren's head up with a hand beneath his chin. Ren's eyes were glassy and unfocused. A sense of worry wriggled in his chest, and Hux took Ren by the hand.

“Come with me,” he said, not exactly a suggestion, but not an order either. Hux led him to the bathroom door and let it stay open behind them. He turned on a row of small blue-toned lights set into the wall with a touch. Sliding back the shower door, he set the water to a moderate level of warmth then switched the flow to the overhead panels. A light rain fell from the ceiling onto the slate tiles and Hux urged Ren beneath it.

Ren gasped in pain at the feel of water against the raw lines scored into his skin. Hux slipped out of his shoes, placing them on a low empty shelf. His clothes went straight into the hamper and then Hux stepped into the shower behind him.

The intense desire to care for Ren, to see to his needs and answer them came as a complete shock to his system. Every gentleness he’d previously offered had been mostly self-serving. This was something different, something powerful. 

Hux tried not to touch any of marks on Ren's skin too roughly. Once they were both clean, he would treat them as well as he could. Hux wanted to touch, wanted to run his fingers down each stripe and see what sounds Ren would make, but he held himself in check. Not now. Ren was somewhere else, and Hux needed to gently guide him back.

He worked a tiny amount of shampoo through Ren's damp hair, knowing that Ren would smell like him until his next shower. It was a light scent, barely there at all, but Hux wanted it to linger. Ren pushed back against his touch, just slightly, and Hux considered it progress. Once his hair was clean, Hux leaned in to work at the knots in Ren's shoulders and press a wet kiss to his cheek.

Taking his hands away from Ren's body for a moment, Hux washed quickly with the white brick of soap set into a small tiled recess. He rubbed a bit of lather onto Ren's back as well, wiping it away with a flannel before it could reach the lines below the tattoos. Slowly rubbing the cloth across his shoulders and down his chest, Hux cleaned what he could before rinsing the both of them clean and shutting off the water.

Ren followed him out of the shower without being prompted, and Hux turned back to face him. The room filled with steam, lending a softness to every edge. Hux stroked a hand down Ren's face and looked up to find his eyes more or less clear.

“Are you with me?” Hux asked, sliding his hand around to rest at the back of Ren's neck. Ren nodded, and Hux pulled him into a light embrace.

“I've never,” Ren whispered against his neck. He seemed to be searching for words that wouldn't come. His arms tightened around Hux. The calm that surrounded them brought back that day in his office, Ren in his arms, wild and desperate, when he had shied away from the word  _ trust _ . Now Hux welcomed it. He wanted it to last, he wanted it to stay. 

“Was it – I mean, was I?” Ren's words were garbled, but Hux knew what he meant.

“You were perfect,” Hux reassured him, stroking his fingers across the warm skin of his back. “Everything I want.” He meant to say 'wanted,' meant to keep it in the past tense, but the words were out now. It was dizzying and confounding and Hux thought about getting Ren into his bed, thought about keeping him there for as long as he could.

Before he could do that, however, they were going to have to move.

Pulling back slightly, he whispered kisses along Ren's jaw. He didn't have to move far to retrieve a soft white bath sheet, and he toweled Ren off as best he could. Hux gently pressed the towel to the backs of Ren's arms, the small of his back, his cheeks, his thighs. Ren made soft sounds and squirmed a bit, but didn't oppose Hux's efforts. Flipping the towel over to its clean side, Hux dried himself off and hung it from a hook, taking Ren's hand and leading him into the bedroom.

“Lie on your stomach for me,” Hux said, setting the light beside the bed to dim. When he looked back Ren's face was wary. “I have some salve for,” he left off. “It will help,” Hux finished awkwardly.  _ For the wounds I gave you _ , he thought, and while he didn't feel an ounce of pity, it seemed a strange thing to say out loud.

Ren nodded and did as he was told, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed before turning himself over, hair damp against the pillow. Hux twitched a bit at what was going to happen to his sheets, but there was nothing for it. Returning to the bathroom, he grabbed a small tub of cream and walked back over to the bed.

Perching on the edge of the mattress, Hux opened the container and spread a thin layer over the stripes at the small of Ren's back. Ren jumped at first, then settled into it with a relieved sort of sigh. Hux moved down across his ass, working the cream over the raised red skin and purpling lines. His thighs were next, and Hux traced the horizontal patterns with his fingers, spreading the comforting balm behind. It was as much for his enjoyment as it was for Ren's benefit, examining the marks he'd left that would not soon fade. When Ren sat down, when he went to sleep, and every time he got dressed, he would remember.

He snapped the top back on the salve and set it on the bedside table. “Would you like me to -” Hux began, but Ren cut him off, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Hux's palm. He tugged gently and Hux took a deep breath before lying down beside Ren, head propped up on his right arm. He thought idly about getting dressed, at least briefs and maybe a t-shirt, but he didn't have anything that would fit Ren. As long as he was going to be naked in Hux's bed, Hux might as well follow suit.

Ren watched him, his gaze traveling down Hux's body. Hux knew he was all over freckles and bits of ginger hair, and he wondered what Ren found appealing enough to justify the look on his face. His routine kept him relatively fit, so that was something at least. Hux stroked his hand through Ren's wet hair, and Ren closed his eyes when his hand moved down to his neck and onto his back. Hux couldn't keep his hands away from the constellations, tracing them over and over with the lightest touch. Ren curled up into his hands as if he were a favored pet enjoying his master's attention. Warmth bloomed behind his ribcage at the idea. 

Hux let his hand rest in the center of Ren's back, barely any distance between them. Ren was warm, and Hux wanted to relax, let that heat wash over him and pull him down into a dreamless sleep. Ren opened his eyes and looked directly into his own, and Hux suddenly felt oddly uncomfortable beneath his gaze. His skin tingled, and he felt the first nagging touch of anxiety bristling beneath his skin. He shifted against the mattress and sat back up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Ren scrambled up behind him, one hand out to clasp his shoulder.

Hux covered Ren's hand with his own, hoping for reassurance. “I'll be right back,” Hux said, needing to get away from the closeness, the warmth, everything that made the moment perfect and frightening in equal measure. He only needed a minute, or maybe ten, to get himself together. Ren lay back down, but Hux could still feel his eyes on his back.

After a stop in the bathroom, he pulled a pair of soft boxers from a drawer, giving in to the need to feel less exposed. Padding across the space to the kitchen, Hux flipped on the overhead track lights. He pulled out cleaning supplies from a kitchen cabinet and went to work on the table. Perhaps the next time Ren made such a mess, Hux would have Ren clean it up for him. It took some scrubbing, but eventually the glazed wood seemed clean. He returned the supplies where they belonged and spent several minutes washing his hands before pulling a cold bottle of water from the fridge. He killed the lights and stood in the kitchen while drinking it, knowing that Ren was waiting for him to return.

He had been the one to start this, Hux reminded himself. Turning off the lights at either end of the space, Hux took a deep breath and headed back to the bedroom. Ren waited for him, curled up on his side as if to make himself small. Sinking back down onto the mattress was easier than Hux thought it would be, and Ren's smile was more than worth the effort. He couldn't help holding himself back, just a little, if only because he wanted so very much to curl into Ren's warmth.

Ren reached out and brushed the back of his hand down Hux's cheek. He held it there for a moment, knuckles resting against Hux's jaw, before sliding around to the base of his neck. He shifted closer, raising up a bit from the pillow and pulled Hux down.

There was the slightest pause before Ren's lips met his own, moving slow and gentle. Hux honestly couldn't remember the last time anyone had kissed him, but he was sure it hadn't been like this. Hux relaxed into it, letting Ren's fingers stroke the skin at his hairline. Were kisses supposed to be like this? Ren kissed him soft and easy, more giving than taking, more like meeting halfway than breaking into one another.

His lips parted for Ren's roving tongue, letting it slip inside his mouth. He pulled Ren closer, urging him forward with the hand curved along his spine. Ren shifted and dropped his hand to Hux's back. His hand traveled in light circles, fingers tickling and teasing. Ren's mouth was hot on his, insistent in its presence, but content for now to explore. Every point of contact between them was electric, Hux could feel his lips buzzing with it. Ren's gentle touch skimmed across a patch of too-smooth skin and slowed, finding the raised lines nearby. The electricity turned to agitation, and soon it proved overwhelming.

Hux pulled away, breath catching in his throat. Ren made a terrible sound at the separation, moving to follow. Hux pressed his fingers to Ren's lips in a small effort to hold him back, but Ren kissed his way up and took two of them in his mouth. He sucked gently, and Hux felt his world narrow to that singular sensation. Ren let them slide out and tried to tug Hux forward again, but he held back out of something very like fear.

Ren took Hux's hand and held it to his chest. “Stay with me,” Ren pleaded, pressing soft kisses to Hux's mouth. “Don't run away.”

“I don't know if I can,” Hux answered truthfully. He wanted to, more than anything, but it was too close, too immediate.

Ren's eyelids fluttered shut. Hux watched him breathe, counting the tiny moles and freckles dotting his face. He leaned back in, resting his forehead against Ren's. It shouldn't be so difficult, Hux thought. This should be the easiest thing in the world.

“Tell me what you need,” Ren said, barely above a whisper, his lips a breath away.

A strange truth welled up and laid heavy on his tongue. Hux didn't trust himself to answer. He knew what he would say. It was foolish, it was sentimental, and he leaned into Ren's touch instead of opening his mouth to speak.

“You know I'd do anything for you,” Ren said, his breath ghosting across Hux's lips. His hand slid slowly back up to wrap around the back of Hux's neck, a warm, gentle presence, steadying him.

“I know,” Hux answered, a light smile playing about his lips. It was the truth. He had made it the truth, and Ren's presence tonight proved it.

“What do you want?” Ren asked a bit desperately. Something shifted in Hux's chest; the need to comfort Ren, to care for him, spilled out like a wave, overriding his fear of what the admission might mean.

“You,” Hux answered at last. It was too simple, it was too much. Ren made a soft noise in the back of his throat and gazed at Hux like he was the only point of light in his world.

“You have me.” Ren took Hux's hand in his right, gently squeezing before guiding it down to touch the cuff at his left wrist. “I'm yours.”

Hux ducked his head to kiss the skin above and below the cuff, running his nose along the inside of Ren's wrist. Finding the lines and pock marks that scored his skin, Hux traced each one with his tongue. A surprised sound escaped Ren's mouth, towing both hurt and gratitude along behind. He moved up, kissing his way to Ren's elbow and sucking at the sensitive skin in the crease.

Ren's free hand stroked through Hux's hair, tugging gently as he slid his lips upward to meet the leather band. It was still damp from the shower, and Hux was certain it would soon begin to chafe. Turning Ren's arm out slightly, Hux pressed his lips against the lock and murmured, “Mine.”

Ren made a needy sound and tugged Hux up by his hair. Hux allowed himself to be moved as far as Ren's shoulder before leaning in to lap at the base of his neck. He nibbled at the skin, pinching it between his teeth as Ren took in sharp, shallow breaths above him. Ren's fingers stopped trying to pull and stroked softly through his hair instead, holding Hux against his throat.

Hux breathed him in, smelled the familiarity of his own scent mingling with the fierce mint from the salve. It was a heady thing, and his thoughts swam. He worked his way up, sliding his lips along Ren's jaw until he could flick his tongue into the hollow behind his ear. Ren arched against him with a pleased sound. Hux drew Ren's earlobe into his mouth and pulled it down, grazing it with his teeth.

“Please,” Ren whispered, and whatever he was asking for, Hux wanted to give. “Kiss me again.”

Hux slid his left hand to cup Ren's jaw and tilted his face down, rubbing his thumb across Ren's lips. They parted obediently, and Hux pressed his mouth against them, soft and swollen and wet. His right hand slid up the back of Ren's neck, fingers winding through the mass of still-damp hair.

Ren wrapped his arms around Hux's neck, pulling him even closer. Hux's lips worked at Ren's mouth, slow and attentive. He nibbled on Ren's lower lip, licking at a raw patch where Ren had bitten down. Ren moaned into Hux's mouth, and Hux tugged his lip forward, caught between his teeth.

They lingered in each others' space, lips meeting and parting, tongues licking in and sliding out. Hux let his hand drift along Ren's side, stopping to rest on his hip. His fingers stroked lightly over the skin, finding a thin raised line and following it down. Ren gasped against his mouth. Hux slid his palm back up and let his arm drape across Ren's back, another reminder that Ren was his, and his alone.

Conscious thought began to fall away, and Hux felt something tight begin to unwind in a place he couldn't name. It felt as if time might have stopped, just for them, just in this room. If he didn't look at the clock, they might have all the time in the world.

Hux slid one leg between both of Ren's, bringing their hips together. Ren was still recovering, but Hux was quickly getting hard all over again. He rocked forward and Ren's right arm traveled down Hux's back, stopping just above his hip. He ran a finger beneath the waistband of Hux's boxers and Hux couldn't suppress a small shiver at the touch. His lips sliding down Hux's neck, Ren's fingers continued to worry at the band, sliding back and forth across his low back. He made a low whimper against Hux's throat.

“Don't like them on me?” Hux asked, his voice thick. Ren shook his head, his hair tickling Hux's neck. “Then take them off.” What should have been a teasing suggestion came out as a command. Ren's fingers stopped their exploration, and he tucked his head beneath Hux's chin.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, breath hot against Hux's neck. Hux realized belatedly that Ren had slipped back into the rules, and no, no they were past that now. A strange and fragile intimacy had crept in when Hux wasn't looking. He wanted to hold it in his hands and keep it safe. He leaned back just far enough to press a kiss to Ren's crown.

“Shh, no,” Hux whispered into his hair. “Just my name.”

“Julian,” Ren breathed, as if he'd been holding it in his mouth. Hux had never heard his name spoken with such reverence. Ren filled the syllables with warmth and desire and Hux shivered at the sound. Ren slipped his fingers over the waistband and gently pulled Hux's boxers down over his hips. His hand rose up to cup Hux's balls, sliding from back to front. Hux hummed his approval when Ren dragged his fingers up the length of his cock. He pressed the flat of his palm beneath the head and moved up and down, pulling a surprised groan from Hux's mouth.

Hux reached down to shove his boxers all the way off, but they caught at his ankles, tangling with the sheets. Ren bit down on his lip, but the laugh came anyway. Hux brought his hand from Ren's back to his chest and pinched Ren's nipple.

“That's for laughing at me,” he said teasingly when Ren gasped in surprise.

“I'll have to do it more often,” Ren countered, pressing a quick kiss to Hux's lips before curling down to tug Hux's feet free of the material. He used the opportunity to run his hand up the length of Hux's inner thigh and stopped at his hips, nosing at the hollow there. He turned his head and licked at the base of Hux's cock. Hux's hand found its way back into Ren's hair and stroked encouragingly.

Running his tongue up the length, Ren gave special attention to the taut line of muscle just beneath the head and Hux couldn't stop his hips from rocking forward. Ren swallowed him down and pulled back off, kissing away a small pearl of precome at the tip. A white smear lingered on his lips, and Hux pulled him up by his shoulders, licking it clean.

When Hux flicked his tongue just inside his mouth, Ren sucked it in and grazed it with his teeth before letting it slip back out. Hux huffed out a heated breath, his eyes rolling back. Ren chased his lips and licked into Hux's mouth, deepening the kiss until Hux curved his hand over Ren's ass and pulled him in close. Ren ran his tongue over Hux's, then around and beneath. Hux moaned into his mouth and thrust into the crease between Ren's thigh and hip. Ren's now sizable erection brushed against his own and Hux pinched Ren's cheek before working his hand between them. Ren's breath caught at the quick, sharp pain and hitched when Hux wrapped his hand around their cocks. He hooked his leg over Hux's hip, changing the angle to give Hux more room.

Hux kept his strokes slow and gentle, rocking up into his fist as Ren struggled for more friction. Ren's arm tightened around him, his hand splayed out between Hux's shoulder blades. The delicious feel of their cocks rubbing together, hearing Ren whimper and bite back first one moan and then another was nearly enough to get him there. Ren's thrusts grew short and forceful, and Hux murmured a litany of praise against his lips.

“That's right, baby,” he murmured, breathing into Ren's open mouth. “Just like that, god you're so beautiful, you're so good for me, Kylo, don't stop, don't – ah –” Hux broke off, his cock throbbing and pulsing as the head of Ren's dick pushed up beneath his own, over and over, and Hux squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back. He wanted Ren to come first, needed it, and his hand stroked faster, harder, pulling up from the root only to tease Ren's head with quick, tight jerks through his fist.

“Julian,” Ren begged, breathing out Hux's name like a prayer. His nails dug into Hux's back, leaving bright blooms of pain behind. “Ah, Julian, please, oh – fuck, I'm –” Ren's leg twisted as his body tensed, pushing hard against Hux's hip and he leaned in to capture Hux's lips in a fierce, wet kiss. Ren cupped Hux's face in his hand, holding him firm as his cock pulsed and jerked in Hux's grip. Hot spend shot up to paint Hux's chest, spilling down his fist and Ren's tongue claimed his mouth, thrusting in deep. It muffled the cries rising from his throat, but he couldn't seem to stop the shudders that wracked his body, his hips still snapping up to meet each stroke.

Golden sparks edged into his vision as Hux's eyes rolled back, the world edging to white. His cock throbbed and Ren sucked hard on his lower lip. “Come on,” Ren said roughly, giving Hux's lips a quick bite. He shifted on the bed and wrapped his hand around Hux's fist, guiding his motions when Hux lost the rhythm. “It's all right, I've got you, let go.”

A keening sound rose up in Hux's throat and his mouth dropped open. The sound that emerged was both wanton and wanting as he let Ren work him past all pretense of control. He came with a cry and a fierce jolt, his knees drawing up as his back arched to the point of pain. Muscles twitched along his spine as his hips rolled forward with each wet pulse, coating their hands and running down.

“Fuck, Kylo,” Hux gasped out, hoarse and utterly spent. Ren loosened his grip but kept up his strokes until Hux's cock began to soften. White noise filled his ears and rushed past him like a gust of wind. A field of stars burst and fell across his vision, drifting in and out of focus as they breathed each other in. Pulling Hux's hand away, Ren lifted his wrist and wrapped Hux's arm around his neck. His fingers were slick with come, but Ren didn't seem to mind. Hux leaned against him, their foreheads pressed gently together.

Neither of them dared to move in the silence that followed. Everything was warm and soft and Hux couldn't bear for it to end. Even the sticky trails of come slowly cooling against his skin were somehow acceptable in the moment. Ren kissed his forehead, then each cheek, before pressing a brief, chaste kiss to Hux's lips. He pulled back from the circle of Hux's arms just long enough to retrieve the pair of boxers and begin wiping the mess from their bodies. Hux sighed with gratitude, not caring if they ended up ruined. Ren was thorough, even wiping their fingers clean before moving to lie back down.

Stopping him with a hand to his chest, Hux dredged up the words to explain. “Shove over,” he said. “I refuse to sleep in the wet spot.” Ren laughed, but only a little, and laid back on the far side of the mattress. Hux stretched just far enough to cut off the lamp before falling back onto the bed. Ren extended his hand across the sheets and Hux took it. Moving to lie beside him, he tucked his head beneath Ren's chin.

Hux never asked his lovers to stay, though there hadn't been many to bother asking over the past few years. Most of them left with a brief parting kiss or worse, a slap on his ass, before they were dressed and out the door. Hux had never expected much from them, just a hot mouth on his cock, warm hands on his skin, reminding him what human touch was like when it had been too long. Ren was altogether different, his presence beside Hux a comfort in the dark. They fit together in a way he wouldn't have expected, curled just slightly into Ren's side.

Lazy thoughts spun out and unwound as Hux stroked his hand across Ren's chest, watching his eyes drift slowly shut. Ren's breathing slowed and Hux listened to the sound of his heartbeat, tracing patterns into Ren's skin with his fingers. He followed the afterglow down into a pocket of peace and calm and sleep rushed in like the tide.

 


	8. Chapter 8

This was the old dream made new again. The Humvee was in pieces and he hung suspended from what had once been the floor, but was now the ceiling. Jackson hung next to him, dripping blood from a face half gone. Hux turned away, his stomach churning at the smell of steel and cordite and gasoline. There was nothing left of the front seat, just an arm caught in the twisted metal. Every surface was either wet or smoking, and a fire grew beneath him, choking him on the fumes. Flames traveled up, and he smelled his hair burning, watched Jackson's uniform begin to catch.

The air crackled and popped as a group of jets passed high overhead. The rain they brought was not the sort that would save him. It was coming for him, the inevitable explosion, and Hux began to scream. Everything went black at the edges before the flash seared itself into his vision and he woke to twisted sheets and echoes in the dark.

 

Hux shuddered, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. The air in the room was thick, and Hux felt the sheets catch on something as he pulled them up around him. Terror coiled in his muscles, and he was certain there was movement in the dark.

“Hux?” A drowsy voice, familiar but heavy with sleep. _Kylo_ , Hux remembered. He shouldn't be here. Why was he still here?

“You ok?” Ren struggled with the tangled bedclothes, eventually managing to shove them away.

“I'm fine,” Hux replied tersely. He wasn't all right, nowhere near, in fact, but he'd be damned before he admitted it out loud. He clenched the top border of the sheet in his fists. The air still smelled like smoke. A hand descended on his shoulder and he jerked away.

“I'm sorry,” Ren said quickly, sounding confused. “Was it a dream?”

Hux didn't answer, forcing in one shallow breath, and then another, willing his lungs to expand. Fear felt like a metal band pulled tight around his chest. He could still hear the hiss and pop of flesh catching flame and the darkness was moving, it _was_.

Breathe in, count to three. Breathe out, count to three. It was an impossible task. His lungs hitched and caught on every inhalation, refusing to cede ground. There were pills, he could take his pills, but what might happen if he did? They changed things, turned everything wrong angled and upside down. They left him weak. He couldn't take them now, not with someone else here.

“Can I do anything?” Ren's voice was nearly in his ear, and the hairs on his arms stood on end. There was rust in his mouth, there was acid on his tongue. Terror barreled through his veins and Hux did the only thing that ever worked. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he stared off into the middle distance and simply shut down.

The world polarized in an instant, snapping sharply into focus. Hux was naked, he was cold, and most of all he was humiliated.

Hux threw off the sheet – filthy, he thought, vile – and climbed out of bed, legs shaking a bit as he made for the bathroom. Sliding shut the pocket door, he threw the arm of the faucet up as far as it would go and cupped his hands beneath the frigid stream. It wasn't the proverbial bucket of ice water, but there was still a chance it would deliver a swift kick to the vagus nerve where he needed it. Bradycardia, Hux thought, clinging to the idea as if he could usher it in by thought alone. Now vasoconstriction. He knew precisely what his mind and body were doing, but that didn't make it any easier to stop shaking.

He needed quiet. He needed a shower. He just needed to be alone.

Leaving the safety of the bathroom was a difficult thing. The bedroom held sticky sheets. The bedroom held his nightmares. The bedroom currently held Kylo Ren, and of the three, Hux had the least idea of what to do with him.

As it happened, the bedroom was empty when he emerged, only making him nervous. He pulled a fresh set of boxers and a loose fitting t-shirt from his dresser and put them on. At least that was one layer of embarrassment dealt with.

“I brought you some water,” Ren said from behind him, and Hux flinched at the sound. It was louder than it had any right to be in the stillness of the room.

Hux forced himself to turn around. Ren loomed large in his vision and he took a step back, hitting the dresser. Ren winced. At some point he'd retrieved his jeans, but not his shirt. Hux ignored the bottle of water he offered and stepped around him, heading out to the living space. He wanted to find a place to sit down, but everything was dirty and so he settled for pacing instead.

“What do you need, Hux?” Ren asked, trailing along behind. His voice was soft and so full of sympathy it made Hux feel sick. “Just tell me what you need, please, I want to help.”

“You can't help this,” Hux said without turning around. Maybe he could, Hux didn't know. He was too afraid to find out.

“Can I just – I could sit with you for a while?” Ren wasn't getting the picture. “We don't have to go back to bed, we could watch TV, or hey, what's your favorite movie?”

“I don't want you to sit with me,” Hux snapped, meaner than he'd meant. “I don't want you to help.” His voice turned sarcastic on the final word, veering back to the familiar.

“Fine,” Ren said softly, winding his thumbs through his belt loops and looking at the floor. “I thought I could help you with this, at least a little, but –” He shrugged, staring at a point somewhere over the sink. “Look, Julian, nothing's going to get any easier if you won't let it.”

“Oh, now you're going to tell me how to live my life?” Hux scoffed. That was rich, coming from the walking clusterfuck.

“That's not what I --”

“You asked what I need?” Hux interrupted, channeling his fear into a swiftly rising anger that was just as desperate, but twice as sharp. “I need you to go.”

Ren looked for a moment as if he'd been struck before his face shut down. He slumped back against the wall with dull thud.

“You said you'd do anything I asked,” Hux said with a cruel sneer, throwing Ren's earnest desire back in his face. “Now I'm asking you to go home.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ren asked, his face screwed up in confusion. Hux could read misery in every line of his body. _Good_.

“Doing what?” Hux asked with very real exasperation.

“Shutting me out,” Ren said, his voice beginning to waver before anger crept in to shore it up. “All this time, all of this –“ He held out his arm, emphasizing the metal band. “It doesn't mean anything to you, does it?”

“Look, Ren –” Hux started, as if heading for a casual dismissal.

“Oh, it's Ren now?” he interrupted. “Goddamn it, Julian. You can call me by my name!”

“That is your name,” Hux argued. “Would you rather I call you Benjamin?”

Ren's face clouded over with anger and he took a step closer, his posture telegraphing a threat.

“I'm sorry if I made you think this was something other than what it was.” Hux's remorseless tone made the apology an obvious lie.

“What was it, then?” Ren asked, and now his voice had turned dangerous. He stalked toward the kitchen, tall shadows keeping him out of Hux's line of sight. It was unnerving, and Hux was certain that was intentional.

Hux reached for the coldest sort of ruthlessness he knew. “It was sex,” he said as if explaining to a child. “I didn't realize you were so inexperienced.”

The look that crossed Ren's face when he stepped back into the light was purest sort of hurt, deep and irreversible. “Who are you?” he asked, voice catching on the words.

“You know exactly who I am,” Hux insisted.

Ren stared at him hard, mouth falling open. “Yeah?” he said, clearly aiming for hateful and falling short. “Well I thought maybe you were actually a decent human being. Guess I was wrong.” Ren shook his head and stared out through the windows for just a beat too long. When he did move, it was to grab his t-shirt from the worktop, pulling it roughly over his head. He only stopped by the door long enough to retrieve his shoes before stomping down the stairs. Hux felt each reverberation in his skull, a headache forming behind his eyes.

The door into the shop slammed with unexpected force and nearly knocked Hux to the floor. He grabbed onto the arm of the couch and managed to stay upright, his heart hammering to be let out from his chest. Hux could hear Ren fumbling around the break room, the metallic clang from his locker door like an aftershock.

_Oh._

Hux clutched his head in both hands, feeling imaginary threads begin to unravel. _Oh, fuck._

The enormity of what he had done began to settle around his shoulders like an oxbow. His mind still raced, his skin still pricked up in fear of the moving dark. The best thing he'd ever had slammed the door to the car park, then gave it what sounded like a kick for good measure.

The anger began to drain from his body, leaving behind only fear. Every instinct screamed for him to run back to the bedroom, pull closed the door and find a safe corner until the storm in his veins had passed. Hux forced himself over to the windows instead, absurdly wanting one last look at everything he'd just thrown away.

Ren paced beside the steps, his hands buried in his hair. He kicked at rocks on the ground, eventually picking up a chunk the size of a golf ball and hurling it at the building next door. Hux couldn't explain why he stood there for several long minutes, his heart pounding, watching Ren spiral further and further out of control. He found an empty glass bottle and smashed it against a tree before throwing the shattered neck as far as it would go. He kicked at the tyres on his much abused Honda before taking a step back and standing still, hands jammed in his pockets.

After a brief moment of confusion, Hux realized what Ren was doing. He was watching his reflection in the window. Ren gave the car another vicious kick before raising his arm to pull at the leather cuff on his left arm. It only took a few minutes before the lock gave way, tearing a hole in the band. Ren let it drop to the ground and gave the other cuff the same treatment, but this time when it fell away, Ren hurled it up toward the second story.

The leather struck the window only a few inches from Hux's face and he stumbled back, what little equilibrium he'd regained instantly gone. When he looked back down, Ren was looking up. His face twisted into an obscene caricature of hatred when he caught sight of Hux. Scuffing his feet into a small patch of grass, he turned up a rough, flat stone and tossed it up and down, catching it in his palm. Hux was afraid he was about to throw it through one of the shop's windows, but Ren turned abruptly and heaved it at his Range Rover instead. It bounced off the driver's side window and Hux winced, knowing what was coming next. With the safety glass already compromised, Ren balled up his fist and punched straight through.

The alarm sounded at a terrible volume, rattling his bones and the windows alike. Hux slid down the glass and collapsed in a heap on the floor, arms up over his head. The sound was yellow and sodium white and felt like spikes driven into his brain. A week might have passed before he got up the courage to clamber to his feet and stumble to where his keys hung on their hook near the door. He mashed the red button on the fob over and over on his way back toward the wall of windows, collapsing with relief when it choked mid-shriek and silence returned.

Ren's car sputtered to life below, and Hux heard it grumble its way out of the car park. He waited to hear a siren, but thankfully no one showed up to investigate. Car alarms went off every day, no one paid them any mind. He wasn't going to file a report, and Ren knew it. Not when Ren had fresh, red lashes across his back and thighs. That was probably the only way the situation could get worse.

He sat beneath the windows, knees pulled tight up to his chest, until his back ached. Hux had no idea what time it was, but his hands were still shaking and he didn't really want to find out how long that had been going on. Slowly unfolding his limbs, he staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the entryway. He didn't think he could hazard the stairs, but the back door would have locked solidly behind Ren, and there were two deadbolts on the upstairs door anyway. He turned one and then the other, his breathing beginning to slow with each heavy clunk, and simply leaned against it while he counted down from ten.

His heart still beat too fast. His skin was still electric, and space was far too open, far too wide. Hux made for the safety of the bathroom as quickly as he could manage. He dialed down the lights and pulled both doors shut tight, closing himself in.

Turning on the shower, Hux retuned the water into a heavy, focused spray. Steam billowed out through the gap in the glass door as the water turned his skin a bright red. Grabbing the brick of soap, he scraped it roughly down his chest and into the hollows of his hips, leaving angry red scratches in its wake. The scent of mint fought against the tang of iron and left him sick.

Hux sat down on the tiles and let the water pummel his skin. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when the water began to run cold and he stood to turn it off. His legs were weak beneath him, and it took several tries before he felt steady on his feet. He wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped his hand through the steam on the mirror. He looked awful.

Leaning forward, Hux braced his hands against the sink and rested his forehead against the silvered glass. It was cool against his skin, despite the moist heat filling the room like a sauna. Had he really said those things? Had he really been so terribly, awfully cruel?

Of course he had. He'd only been deceiving himself, thinking that he could be anything else. Hux opened a small cabinet set into the wall, gazing at the row of orange pill bottles that sat beneath a spare toothbrush, plasters, and the like. The dates on most of the labels were years old, but not the one on the end. Twisting off the cap, Hux let spill a flood of small white pills into his palm.

The bottle of water had ended up on his dresser, and the small ring of moisture underneath made Hux twitch. Popping the cap, he downed as many pills as would fit in one swallow, then did it again. He stared down at the rumpled linens on the bed for a long moment before ripping them off and wadding them up into a ball. Hux grabbed a bare pillow, smoothed out the duvet on top of the mattress, and stared at the ceiling until the world melted away.

 

A loud knocking dragged Hux awake from a deep and dreamless sleep. His vision was blurry, and his head swam when he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The noise was insistent, and he'd only just managed to drag himself out of the bedroom when he realized he was barely dressed. Hux couldn't remember going to bed, but he did remember the pills.

Golden sparks danced in his peripheral vision while he struggled to open the dresser drawer and find a pair of trousers. Getting his legs into them was another challenge altogether, his limbs wobbly and numb. The banging continued until Hux shouted at it, and realized just how much his head hurt. Hux stubbed his toe on the descending risers, nearly falling into the entryway. Everything was too bright and he thought he might throw up.

Turning the deadbolts, Hux slid the door back with as small a gap as possible. Thanisson and Mitaka stood on the steps, their heads tilted to see inside. Mitaka worried his lower lip nervously, but Thanisson had clearly been the one doing the knocking.

“Dude, are you ok?” Thanisson asked, annoyance plain on his face.

“We saw your car,” Mitaka added. “And the door downstairs was open.”

“Mitaka wanted to make sure you weren't dead,” Thanisson said with a shrug.

“Yes, well,” Hux replied. “Fortunately for the both of you, I'm still alive. Good luck getting your paychecks from a dead man.”

“What happened?” Mitaka asked. “Is everything ok?”

 _No_ , Hux thought immediately. _Nothing is ok_. “It's fine,” he answered. “Someone broke into my car, is all. I called the police, but they never found anyone.” Hux was surprised at how easy it was to lie to them. “They were here until very early this morning, and I'd rather like to go back to sleep, if that's all right with you.” He skipped over the subject of the unlocked inner door, hoping they wouldn't notice.

Thanisson nodded. “We got you, boss. Molly's coming in at noon, and I think Xan and Autumn have the evening shift covered.”

Hux breathed a sigh of relief. Ren wasn't even scheduled, not that he'd show up if he had been. Hux wasn't sure Ren would ever walk through that door again and the knowledge felt like a knife in his gut.

“Get some rest,” Mitaka advised, still looking terribly concerned.

Hux nodded and closed the door in their faces, relieved to drop the mask of composure. He leaned against the sturdy metal plate, unintentionally eavesdropping on their banter by virtue of not wanting to move.

“I told you he was fine.” Thanisson offered his opinion as his shoes clunked down the stairs.

“He never leaves that door unlocked,” Mitaka protested. “What if someone had gotten in?”

Hux could hear Thanisson's eyes roll through the door. “Hux would have murdered them with his bare hands, that's what.”

“You don't think he'd really –”

“What, you don't? Amy said he's got a purple heart and two other medals in his office. Dude doesn't look like much, but I bet he's a beast.”

“He looks like he could kick your ass just fine,” Mitaka countered with a teasing laugh.

“Tch,” Thanisson replied. “He wishes.”

“I'd come visit you in the hospital,” Mitaka promised.

“Yeah, well,” Thanisson mumbled. “You'd better.”

Hux listened to their voices fade and vanish entirely after closing the door into the shop. He couldn't reprimand them for any sort of interoffice flirting after what he'd spent the past five months doing. Retrieving the keys, he stumbled down the stairs to lock all three deadbolts and managed to make it back up again in one piece. His vision swam, but he didn’t even throw up once.

Hux didn't feel like disappointing Amy by telling her that one of those medals in his office was expeditionary, and the other was for marksmanship. No feats of superhuman strength or heroism, there. He'd been told otherwise repeatedly by condescending therapists and his overzealous squadmates, but only the Purple Heart had mattered to his father. Hux often thought the man would have been happier to have a posthumous Distinguished Service medal to hang in his study, but he had failed at both distinguishing himself and dying in the field.

Locking the inner door, Hux returned the keys to their ring and downed a bottle of water from the fridge. Retreating to the quiet interior of his bedroom, Hux retrieved a blanket from the closet and slid the door tightly shut behind him to block out every trace of light. He curled back up on the duvet and slept until morning came again.

 

Ren didn't show up for work the next day. No call, no text, not even a terse voicemail on the office line. Hux expected it, but didn't expect the ache, or the panic that squeezed around his chest. He didn't expect to spend nearly an hour at his desk, the door shut, his head in his hands.

His attempts at self-analysis failed miserably. Hux couldn't blame his actions on the nightmare. He couldn't even blame it on the war. He could probably blame his refusal of any and all offers of help, but Hux was tired of people trying to get inside his head. Most of the time, Hux didn't even want to be there himself.

He blamed it entirely on himself for being a bitter asshole who rarely sought out any form of human companionship beyond a quick and dirty fuck. If he had ever known how to be kind, or compassionate, Hux had forgotten it long ago. Ren was the first person to sleep in that bed besides himself, and Hux was painfully sure he never would again.

Some small part of Hux tried to believe that he might be forgiven, but the rest of him knew better. He didn't deserve forgiveness. Hux wasn't sure he could accept it even if it was offered.

 

It was two more days before Hux saw him again, and in the meantime he tried to act as if everything were normal. He hadn't made any excuses to the staff, not this time, and he could feel their eyes on him as he tried to ignore the whispers. It was none of their business. Even if they never saw Ren again, he at least deserved some measure of privacy.

When Ren did at last walk through the door he was late, arriving barely a minute before the store was due to open. Hux let him clock in without a word. He left the pentagonal key in Ren's locker, along with a simple note.

_I'm sorry. – H_

Hux saw the paper crumpled in the trash and finally began to accept that it was over.


	9. Chapter 9

Hux didn't think he'd slept in three days. Cat naps, perhaps, stolen at his desk or on the couch, telly tuned to period dramas he had no real interest in watching. He had his car window fixed. He meant to have the locks on the building changed, but never did.

Perplexingly, Ren still showed up at work, and perhaps even more oddly, Hux allowed it. He told himself it was out of respect, that it was the professional thing to do until he could deal with Ren like the rational person he was supposed to be. The truth of it wasn't nearly so noble. Even if Ren wasn't his anymore, even if Hux never touched him again, never asked him to do a single thing, he was still there.

A week passed by in a haze of self loathing. The calendar said it was Saturday, and the traffic was high enough to bear out the observation. If it was a littler heavier than normal for a weekend, Hux honestly didn't notice. The staff came and went, keeping to a schedule Hux couldn't remember making. Hux wasn't sure he'd given anyone solid direction in a week, but the store hadn't run itself into the ground just yet.

Later, he would find discarded adverts for some sort of traveling festival, boasting a tacky midway, a grotesque sideshow, and worst of all, fireworks. When the sounds began, they came as a complete shock. It wasn't a national holiday. He wasn't comfortably ensconced behind his soundproofed bedroom walls, wasn't wearing headphones, wasn't deep between the pages of a novel. He was halfway to the back of the store, zippered envelope ready to drop in the locked collection box. The pops rang in his head like gunfire and he dropped the pouch, covering his ears. He slid down to sit on the floor between the counters, his back to a sturdy metal panel, eyes tightly shut. It was Marjah, it was Kandahar, it was hollow barrels sweeping down above a grave.

He didn't hear the footsteps that must have echoed across the floor. He jumped when a shadow loomed large in his field of vision, shrinking back and choking on his own fear. No gun was fired. No fist was raised. The shadow resolved itself into a familiar figure, sinking down beside him on the floor without a word.

Hux moved his hands from his ears with some difficulty, looking up at Ren, who only stared straight ahead. His skin was heated wires, his mind in overdrive. His teeth chattered and his jaw ached from being clenched. The explosions rang loud and Hux shook, knees pulled up to his chest. Keeping a clearly defined space between them, Ren reached out and took his hand. Hux squeezed it hard, but Ren didn't pull back.

“I don't deserve this,” Hux whispered in a rare quiet moment between strikes.

“No, you don't.” Ren agreed. “That's not the point.”

Hux closed his eyes and curled in on himself while the fire rained down and didn't, all at the same time. It was a long while before his breathing stopped catching in his throat, before his lungs would fill. Hux rocked back and forth like a child, and still Ren didn't leave, never once letting go of his hand. The noise had long disappeared into the night when Ren finally uncurled his fingers from Hux's grip.

“Thank you.” The words caught in Hux's throat but he pushed them out, needing to say them even if Ren didn't need to hear. Hux wanted to ask him to stay. Wanted Ren to come upstairs and slide under the blankets with him, wanted to fall asleep in his arms. It was the most selfish thing he could possibly ask.

Leaning across what little space separated them, Hux pressed against Ren’s shoulder. Ren’s head drooped at the contact, hair falling in his face. Hux reached out, tucked Ren’s hair behind his ear. His eyes were squeezed shut, but when Hux ran his knuckles gently down his cheek, Ren turned into the touch. He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but soon Ren’s arm was tugging him close, Hux’s hand was in his hair and then he was tilting his head up to meet Ren’s lips in a fierce, needy kiss. 

“Damn it,” Ren said, breaking away long enough to breathe.

Hux leaned in as close as he could get, resting against Ren’s forehead. “Come upstairs,” he whispered. “Let me fix it.” 

Letting his eyes fall shut, Ren’s tongue darted out to lick his lower lip. Want was palpable in every line of his body, and Hux echoed it with his own. Ren drew in a deep breath before speaking a single word. “No.” 

At Hux’s soft sound of disbelief, Ren took Hux’s head in his hand and pressed a firm kiss to his brow. “No,” he repeated, more solidly this time, and rose to his feet. Hux watched him go in a pool of his own misery, leaning heavily against the cabinets when he thought he might just topple over. He knew he didn't deserve anything, least of all Ren's compassion or pity or whatever this had been. That didn’t stop him from wanting it. Hux heard every step in the darkness as Ren moved farther and farther away.

 

When Hux finally slept, the new dream was cruelest of all. Ren had him on his back, pressed down gently against the mattress, their hands entwined above his head. Light filtered into the room, and Hux wasn't sure where he was. Ren kissed him softly, as if this were normal, as if they could take all the time they wanted. Hux didn't mind the lack of structure, the lack of control, because neither of them possessed it. It was a strange liminal space that he hadn't known could exist, but now it did Hux wanted to keep it.

He woke up alone and shivering, hating himself more than he ever had.

 

After several cups of coffee and five miles before the day's heat could set in, Hux found something unexpected in his office. It was a slim plastic case, perfectly aligned with the edge of his desk. The cover was a simple pattern of stars, and something in Hux's throat closed up. When he opened it, a matte black CD sat inside. He thought about putting it on over the speakers, but something held him back. Hux wasn't sure what it would sound like, or what he wanted it to sound like. He would listen to it when he was ready.

The shop ran on a skeleton crew, but there were few enough customers for Hux not to mind. He spent a good part of his day behind his desk, catching up on paperwork and balancing the accounts. When he couldn't look at figures anymore, he dropped his glasses on a pile of mail and took a shift at the registers. Everyone seemed on the verge of speaking to him, something beyond what was necessary, but thankfully no one did.

He wondered if Ren had said anything, or if it even mattered.

Amy stayed late to close up, and Hux walked her across the wide lot to her car as always. A small stuffed giraffe poked its head out of her bag, staring him down with glassy brown eyes, and Hux felt oddly judged. Amy unlocked the door and then turned to face him before getting in.

“Whatever you did, Hux,” she said, one purple manicured hand on the top of the door frame. “I don't think it's too late to fix it.”

Hux looked away. “I wish you were right,” he said. He chewed on his lip and honestly didn't care how miserable he looked.

“I'm always right,” she insisted with a smile. “Chin up.”

“Go home, Amy.” Hux smiled back, wishing he could take her words to heart. 

After locking up, walking the floor, checking the locks again and turning off the lights, Hux took the CD from his desk and went upstairs. It was sturdier somehow than a small drive full of digital sounds, weightier than any code or attachment. Ren's hands had actually touched it, had fitted the printed square of paper in the front and a solid black one in the back. It looked like something he would have picked up at a small live show, and Hux realized that was exactly it. Ren must have made hundreds of copies of his own music, and his band's albums before that.

There was a track list printed in a small font, silver against the brown paper page facing the CD itself. Hux had never heard any of the names that traveled the paper like ghosts. He was oddly apprehensive about letting it play. “Stop being foolish,” he muttered to himself, dropping the circle into the tray and pressing the button.

He hung his shirt on the back of a bar stool then settled in on the couch, a well-worn copy of Hemingway’s short fiction in his hands. The first few notes were almost too soft to hear, spreading out like a slow cloud to blanket the room. It was breathtakingly quiet, and the other tracks followed apace. Each new song was soft and comforting in a way music had never been for him. Hux closed his eyes, and when he opened them the light green display showed him that he'd missed most of the album. He found the remote and clicked repeat.

The last notes dropped away like water on a still pond, and Hux blinked himself awake for the second time. He picked himself up and stumbled off to his bedroom, the sound following him as he slipped off his trousers and crawled beneath the sheets. He dreamed of warm wind and a calm ocean, all thoughts of guns and graves left far behind.

He woke to what sounded like wind chimes. He left the music on while he made breakfast and coffee. When he made it downstairs, he placed a simple note in Ren's locker. It might be the last one he ever left, or at least the last one Ren ever read, but Hux tried not to think of it that way.

_ Thank you. For the music. –H _

  
Hux heard Thanisson's voice from the break room and decided to pass it by. It was just too early to deal with that, even for the fresh donuts he hoped were inside. The conversation within managed to pull him closer against all good wisdom, and Hux ended up outside the door anyway. Now he was eavesdropping on his own employees. Wonderful.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he heard Marc said with disbelief. “He leaves notes in your locker? Holy 8 th grade, Batman. I thought Xan was kidding.”

“He's not really good at saying what he means,” Ren said. His voice sounded heavy, almost weary.

Thanisson didn't reply, and Hux could hear the coffee pot begin to perk. Then, “What does he leave you, like, bad poetry? Daily affirmations? Grocery lists?” Hux had never really liked Thanisson's laugh. “Do you really keep them in your pocket like a –”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Ren snapped. The quiet only lasted for a brief moment.

“Oh my god,” Marc said softly. “Oh my god, you actually –”

“Don't,” Ren cut him off. “It doesn't matter.”

“Shit, man.” Thanisson sounded like someone's pet had just died. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah,” Ren answered after a beat. “I am too.”

Hux forced his legs to move, heading out onto the floor. He needed something to do with his hands and ended up at the register, counting the cash in the drawer. He was sure it had been done already, probably twice. Ren’s words echoed in his head.  _ It doesn’t matter. _

Any doubts Hux had about the CD being a goodbye cleared in an instant. Ren had said no, then let him down easy. He would only be disrespectful of what they had, only make things worse if he tried again. Mitaka opened the doors to the morning traffic and Hux let the conversation fade into the back of his thoughts, focusing on the simple repetition of scan, swipe, type, print, slide.

The store was flooded with mid-morning sunlight when Ren traded out with Autumn at the till beside him. Hux didn't know what to say, but the line of customers spared him from having to come up with anything. He nearly jumped when Ren spoke without turning in his direction.

“Did you sleep all right?” A simple question, carrying unexpected weight.

“Yes,” Hux answered, unable to look at him. “Very well.”

 

The tension slowly settled into a exhausted sort of truce. Ren didn't leave, and Hux never even considered firing him. It was awkward, yes, but Hux made certain they were never scheduled in a way that would leave them alone with one another. He was sure the staff noticed, but the gossip chain at Flagship was less like a game of Telephone and more like a hive mind.

He asked Phasma to keep an eye out for positions at the firm, or with any of her contacts. She was a force of nature and a networking genius; if she couldn't find Ren a new job, then no one could. When he received a flood of calls from potential employers, Hux lied through his teeth. Yes, Ren was a model employee, Hux had known him for years. Yes, he was dependable and respectful and though Hux was sorry to see him go, he wished Ren all the best for his new career.

If offers were made, Ren didn't accept any of them. He switched to morning shifts, playing gigs at every venue he could book around town. Not that Hux paid any attention to the flyers scattered about the breakroom. The calls tapered off, but Hux kept trying. A paid internship at the local history museum. Manager at a pub with live music most nights. Even a caretaker at the war memorial. Ren wouldn't have to interact with anyone for the last.

One morning as Hux was heading back upstairs to take most of the day off, he heard Mitaka's voice drifting out from the breakroom. It was unusually steady, not a single stammer to be heard.

“ … the job search going?” It was friendly, almost companionable. Hux knew he would hear Ren's voice in answer, so he stayed out of sight.

“I mean, it's all right I guess.” Hux could almost hear the shrug that followed. “I keep getting calls from companies who have no business even knowing my name, much less wanting to hire me.”

“You can't blame Hux for trying,” Mitaka said.

“I can blame Hux for a lot of things, actually.” Ren's voice was light, almost joking, and that hurt the worst of all.

 

Despite their best efforts, ending up alone in each other's company was inevitable. Hux woke one morning near the end of September to a dense blanket of fog haunting the world outside his windows. The remnants of a tropical storm hung heavy about the city, a dense rain smothering the streets. 

The city at large had decided to sleep in, and his employees were no exception. Hux didn't bother calling anyone else. Sales traffic would be minimal at best. It seemed like an excellent day to catch up on paperwork, with the way that time cards, invoices, and backorders seemed to be piling up.

The back door rattled in its frame just as Hux settled down at his desk. It was louder and more insistent than a gust of wind, and he reluctantly left his office to investigate. Rounding the corner, he collided with Ren, occupied in shrugging out of his windcheater. Startled, Ren took a step back, only to hit the wall with a loud bang. His jacket and backpack fell to the side in a heap. Thrown by the unexpected sound, Hux slipped on the wet floor, losing his balance. Then there were hands on his arms, strong and steadying, keeping him on his feet.

“All right?” Hux asked just as Ren said “You ok?” and Hux wanted to nod, wanted to pretend that he was, but a shock of adrenaline still flooded his veins. Ren's thumb slid back and forth where he was holding him a little too close, and suddenly Hux was not all right, not at all. “Sorry,” he mumbled, trying to pull away from Ren's hands. “Sorry about that, I'm – ”

“Hux, it's ok.” Ren's fingers still held on tight.

Hux shook his head. He kept his head down so he wouldn't look up, so Ren wouldn't see. An entire month of hating himself, four weeks of never once laying a hand on Ren, not even for a moment, and now Ren's hands were on him, instead. He was supposed to step back. He was supposed to be professional, disentangle himself from Ren, and – alphabetize the paperwork, take a duster to his shelves, something, anything.

He wasn't professional, and he didn't go anywhere at all. Ren looked at him with the worst sort of understanding, and something in Hux cracked under his gaze. All he could think of doing in that moment was to kiss him, so that's what he did. Just a soft press of lips, not taking, only asking. Ren gripped his arms tighter, but his lips might as well have been stone.

Hux tilted his head for a better angle, knowing it was wrong, understanding full well his own selfishness and greed, but when Ren's lips at last melted against his own, he forgot everything else. All thoughts of self-recrimination vanished into the encompassing heat of that mouth, those lips moving against his lips, those hands sliding up from his arms to cup his face with a gentleness Hux didn't deserve.

It went on forever and was gone in a heartbeat when Ren pulled back and pressed his fingers to Hux's lips where he tried to follow. “I can't,” Ren said, his voice strained. “I thought I could, Hux. I tried to stay, but you’re never going to -” He broke off, tilting his head back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling. “I can’t keep waiting on you. I just need it to be done.” 

Hux stared without understanding, not daring to speak around the tightness in his throat. Ren started to move his hand away, but his sleeve pulled back just far enough for Hux to see the glint of metal against his skin. Hux stared at the cuff wrapped around Ren's wrist for several long seconds, attempting to process the sight.

“You're still wearing it.” The words came out flat, emotionless. That had been the sound, Hux realized. The metal striking the wall.

Ren closed his eyes and leaned back against the paneling. He let his hands fall away, but Hux reached out for his left wrist and turned it up toward what little light filtered through. He ran the pad of his thumb across the flat bar where it rested against Ren's pulse point.

“Why?” Hux asked, tilting his head up slightly. “I gave you back the key. If we're done, then why are you still –”

“Can we not do this right now?” Ren interrupted, tugging his hand away. “I'd just gotten to sleep when Marc called me to take his shift, but I need the money, all right? My fuel pump's about to go.” Ren jammed his right hand into his hair, pulling it out of his face. “I couldn't find the key, I didn't think it would matter.”

“Why wouldn't that matter?” Hux said, his voice thin. In what universe would it not matter than Ren was still wearing what Hux had given him?

“I didn't think you'd see them, all right?” Ren's voice grew loud. “I figured we'd just work around each other like always, still acting like nothing ever happened.” 

“That's not what I meant,” Hux said. It didn't matter if he saw them or not – it mattered that Ren wore them at all, and he was somehow, impossibly, missing the point. “How am I supposed to act, Kylo? I made the worst mistake of my life with you! Do you think I like being reminded of that every single day?” 

Ren froze. Even in the dim morning light, Hux could see the shock etched upon his face, and Hux thought he might have stopped breathing. Ren shook his head slowly. “Is that really how you see me?” Ren asked, stunned. “As the -” he broke off, turning away. He ran his hands through his hair as if trying to pull it up before letting it fall back in his face.

“I never meant to hurt you like I did,” Hux continued, the apology welling up from some terrible reserve in his chest. If he still wore that band, then Hux had to believe there was still a chance. “I know you won't hear it, but it's the truth.” Ren stared at him as if he were some sort of monster from a childrens' story. Maybe in the end, that's all he was, and had ever been. 

“How can you do that?” Ren asked, astounded. His voice was distant, almost alien. “Stand there and try to apologize after what you just did?” He paced back and forth, the space too small to really get anywhere. “Maybe it's because I've been letting you do it for so long,” he said, directing his words to the floor. “But I can't keep coming back here, knowing that's what you think.” He moved to pick up his backpack and Hux's chest all but caved in.

“It's not your fault,” Hux said, dragging the words out. “None of it is. If you'd just let me apologize –”

“Stop talking!” Ren said angrily. “I don't want to listen to you. I don't want to hear anything you have to say about this, or about us, or whatever you think will hurt me more. This isn't just no, Hux, this is  _ red _ .”

“Kylo, don't leave,” Hux said, his voice soft and pleading. “It's cats and dogs out there, at least stay until it passes over.” Even after all he'd done, Hux still wanted to keep him safe. Even knowing this was the last place Ren should ever look for shelter. It didn't stop him from wanting.

“What did I say? The only time I ever used that word and you still don't respect me enough to listen.” Ren shook his head, his face blotchy and wet.

“I miss you,” Hux said, as if that would justify anything. Nothing he'd said was working, and he was nearly out of breath.

“Trust me, Hux, I'll be just fine out there without you and your regrets.” Ren yanked a small keyring out from his pocket and threw it in Hux's direction. A gust of wind and rain blew in before Ren slammed the door behind him.

Hux bent to pick up the keys and grabbed the dull grey jacket from the floor as well. It was torn and frayed at the edges, small gaps here and there making it all but useless. He hung it up on the coat rack anyway. Hux knew he needed to move, needed to walk away and find something to do with his hands before he punched them bloody against the bricks. Ren wasn't the only one wound like a bomb. He just had a much shorter fuse.

Rain pounded against the roof, only multiplied by the echoes in the open space above. It poured down the windows in sheets, leaking in through the back door and pooling in the hallway. The storm was washing his world away and Ren still wore his mark around his wrist.

Something about the revelation wasn't quite right, and Hux's restless mind worried at it with teeth. He'd seen Ren's arms since everything went to hell. He came to work in t-shirts before changing, surely Hux would have noticed if –

Ren couldn't find the key. The phone call woke him up and Ren couldn't find the key to take it off. It took a moment for the thought to properly sink in, but once it did it sent Hux reeling. Ren didn't wear the band to work. He wore it when he slept.

An engine sputtered from the car park, grinding out its refusal, and for a brief moment Hux thought he had a chance – but by the time he yanked the door open, letting in a torrent of wind and rain, the stubborn hatchback had decided to catch. Hux let the rain soak straight through and watched Ren drive away.

 

Hux opened the store alone, going through the motions like an automaton. Xander was the first person through the doors at nine o'clock, followed by only two customers in the next three hours. They were wet, they were muddy, and they only wanted coffee. Hux ran the bar to keep his hands busy, to give his mind a simple rut to pace.

They barely spoke to one another, and Xan looked profoundly grateful when Autumn turned up just after noon. It was the first time Hux had ever seen her dressed down, a presumptive concession to the weather. Xan tugged on her new box braids, tied up in a stylish knot, and admired her vintage Sailor Moon tee. Hux leaned on the counter and watched them have a mock fight with the rubber dinosaur toys. Their antics passed the time, and Hux decided he didn't care if they were slacking off, or how far both of them had pushed the dress code that day. It didn't seem to matter much. At the moment, nothing really did.

The weather grew worse, low rumbles of thunder joining in the fray, and when the lights began to flicker Hux sent them home. It was only three in the afternoon, but Hux edited their timestamps for a full day. It didn't lift the fog of guilt from his conscience, but it cleared the air enough to see.

He wiped down the counters, mopped the entryway, and swept the dried clumps of dirt tracked in around the coffee bar. There weren't any stray books to see back to their homes, no returns to process and file away, and the only open register took five minutes to balance. The building was empty, the weather restless, and Hux walked the floor until he couldn't stand the sound of his own shoes.

The wind turned angry as he paced, hurling thin branches and detritus from the streets against the windows. The lights flickered again, then surged to brightness with a terrible, high-pitched whine. Just as he thought the bulbs might shatter, they blinked and sizzled their way into darkness. The air cut off. The computers went down. Hux gave up the ghost and went upstairs.

Locking the doors behind him, Hux kicked off his shoes by the door, shed his clothes in a pile by the bed and crawled beneath the covers to sleep away all of his mistakes.


	10. Chapter 10

Ren never came back after that. Hux mailed his last check to the address he had on file, and checked obsessively until it cleared. Every now and then he heard one of the staff mention his name along with a time and a venue. The occasional concert flier caught his attention; here with Machine Collective and there with The Antler Incident. 

Hux stayed away until he couldn't, standing in the back of a small concert hall while False Maps finished gazing at their trainers. Ren took the stage to applause and familiar greetings, the keyboard remaining on stage to join his usual guitar. Hux was certain Ren caught his eye before casually moving on.

The first few notes plucked from the strings echoed through the space, and Hux felt each one like fingers on his skin. Ren's voice was just as affecting as the last time Hux heard it, haunting and haunted in turns. He sang stories to the crowd, spinning out entire galaxies with each verse. He brought monsters and myth out to dance, tuning them expertly into poetry. The crowd was enthralled, and so was Hux.

Then the tenor of the music shifted. A familiar figure, clearly well-known to the crowd, joined Ren on stage to stand behind the keyboard. Dark hair trimmed this time into an odd sort of checked pattern, Rook finally looked in her element. She waved at the audience, flipping levers and turning dials before filling the entire hall with a single note. 

The music they wove between them was reminiscent of the mix Ren had made for him, if more varied and given to motion. Ren leaned into a pedal, his body moving along with the notes as if tied to them by a string. Stretches of the melody looped over and over from a small box resting beside him, layering the sound as it flowed back and forth between the instruments. It left Hux entranced, closing his eyes and letting it flow across his skin like water. 

Minutes or maybe hours later, he heard the first gentle notes of an all-too familiar melody and it shocked him into awareness. It was the last track on the mix. Hux hadn't realized there was an extra song at first, until it became his favorite and he consulted the track list for the artist. There wasn't one. 

Understanding punched him in the gut. The room became too warm, the presence of others in the room suddenly separate and distinct and smothering. Hux left halfway through the piece and chainsmoked on the steps until two in the morning.

 

October came and went, a parade of crisp blue skies and dry, skittering leaves. He let Cassie and Autumn decorate for Halloween against his better judgment. The more Hux tried to hold onto his rules and regulations, the more they seemed to slip away. Matt scared a herd of small children with fake burns and finger knives. Kent showed up for work wearing tentacles. Cassie wore a pair of horns and small mechanical wings that caught on everything and had to be disassembled. Amy's turn as Wonder Woman was actually quite perfect, but the golden whip at her side made Hux a bit uncomfortable. Mitaka and Thanisson dressed like a pair of oddball scientists, which was markedly better than last year's attempt at Daft Punk, though at least one customer tripped over Marc's cane. Xander skipped out entirely, claiming he dressed as the Invisible Man.

All in all, it was a disaster.

Weeks blended into one another, and winter sailed in on a wave of sleet and freezing rain. Hux closed early on Christmas Eve, giving in to hopeful looks from the staff and a fair amount of sugary bribes. He reorganized the end caps into different themes, changing his mind at least four times, before giving up and tidying the mess left behind in the break room. Broken cookies, foil wrappers, and flavors of assorted candy that no one ever liked collected in piles on the worktop. An unfortunate rainbow of sprinkles and sugar crystals spilled from every flat surface to crunch beneath his shoes. He could spend a year scrubbing and never get rid of them all.

It was the sort of thing he would have told Ren to do, just to watch him struggle.

Hux dumped the leftover cookies into a tin and took them upstairs, telling himself he'd just add extra miles to his morning runs to make up for them. Settling in by the fireplace, he slipped between the hefty pages of a Susanna Clarke novel, eating iced snowmen and reindeer for dinner. It was a perfect way to spend Christmas Eve, or at least it would have been, if he wasn't painfully aware of his own solitude.

Trading out a bottle of water for a bottle of beer, Hux tried not to think about how Ren was spending the evening. If he was out with friends, or if he'd met someone that treated him properly for a change. Someone who deserved everything Ren had to give. His focus waning, Hux stared past the book in his hands to the flames flickering in their glass cage.

He'd nearly drifted off, third beer in hand, book resting on his chest, when his phone buzzed and rattled its way across the coffee table. The name on the display threw his mind into chaos, his hand hovering over the screen for a few seconds too long. The buzzing stopped. The screen went black. Hux cursed himself for a fool and nearly hurled the phone across the room.

Hux stared at his reflection in the glass until the screen lit up with a simple message: one new voicemail. Hux pressed the green rectangle before he could talk himself out of it. Lifting the phone to his ear, he held his breath and waited.

Only a long moment of silence rewarded his bravery. A cold lump formed in the pit of his stomach, and Hux had nearly pressed the key to delete when the soft voice took him by surprise.

“Hux?” The return to silence after a single syllable was like a several story drop. “Hux, I know I shouldn't –“ The soft hum of static creeped into the background, filling in the gaps. “Look, just. Forget it. Merry Christmas, I guess.” The line went dead and Hux couldn't move. The tinny recorded voice intruded, asking if he would like to delete, replay, or save. This time, Hux waited so long she had to ask again.

He pressed save, knowing full well he would only torture himself with it. Ren sounded drunk, but also a little lost, and hearing it made parts of Hux hurt that he didn't even know where there. Before he could think it through, Hux called him back. It rang, and rang, and Hux had just pulled the phone away from his ear when he heard the background noise change. Time stretched out as neither of them said a word.

“Kylo?” Hux asked when he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

“Yeah,” came the quiet response in his ear. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Hux answered. He hadn't the slightest clue what he was supposed to say. Muffled conversations in the background blended with the sounds of clinking glass.

“I just, um.” At least Ren didn't seem to know what to say, either. “I'm at my mom's, actually, for her Christmas thing, and I, I was – fuck.”

“How are you?” Hux asked in the heavy pause that followed.

“Honestly? I might be a little drunk.” Hux heard the sound of something falling over with a clatter, and then possibly falling back over again. “Yeah, I'm drunk.”

Hux let the pronouncement stand for a few seconds, glad that Ren couldn't see the stupid smile on his face. “You drunk dialed me on Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah,” Ren admitted. “I guess I did.”

A laugh rose up in his throat, and Hux couldn't hold it back. It was a quiet, bubbling sort of laugh, the kind poised to spill over into hysteria.

“Asshole, don't you laugh at me.” Ren's name-calling lacked bite.

“Kylo,” Hux said, “If I wasn't laughing right now, I'd be –” He broke off, figuring it didn't need to be said.

“Yeah. I know.” Ren paused before changing the subject. “I haven't been back here in forever.”

Hux wondered what could have possibly convinced Ren to willingly show up at his mother's for the holidays, but he didn't ask. Every second that Ren decided to stay on the line felt like a tiny gift, causing Hux to wonder if he'd skipped over tipsy and wandered straight into pleasantly trashed. “Everything just as you remember?”

“Exactly like I remember.” Ren confirmed with a quiet snort. “It's pretty awful, I don't think my mom's redecorated since the 90's.” They shared another laugh at that, sliding into the familiar pattern they both needed. “I'm staying with my cousin, though, so it's not like I have to constantly deal with her judgments on my choices in life.”

“Well, there's something to be said for that.” Hux said to fill in the gap. He was hesitant to speak ill of Ren's family while he was surrounded by them.

“She's still got the same people working for her, some of their kids now, too.”

“That's an impressive employee retention rate,” Hux said. “What sort of business?”

Ren paused, and Hux wondered if he'd crossed some sort of line by asking for details. Saint medals or sex toys, it was all the same to Hux.

“Sort of a general store,” Ren answered finally. “You want to know something odd?” He didn't pause long enough for Hux to reply that yes, he wanted to hear anything and everything Ren wanted to say, no matter how mundane.

“An old friend of mine runs this coffee shop next door, right? And he's got this kid Finn working for him, nice guy, really. He seems cool, but I think my cousin might be dating  _ both _ of them. I don't really know what to think about that.”

“Do you like them?” Hux asked, trying to convince his mind that plenty of people in the world were named Finn. There was no relation to his former employee once on the fast track to making Assistant Manager.

“I've known Poe since high school, he's a good guy.” Ren's words were slurring more with each sentence, and Hux wished it wasn't so endearing. “Twelve years older than my cousin, which doesn't thrill me, but whatever. My mom seems to think Finn is the perfect son, so you know, maybe after this year she'll stop hounding me to come visit.” There was an odd bitterness in his voice.

“You're welcome to spend your holidays with me,” Hux said, his brain to mouth filter clearly broken. He could hear Ren breathing through the phone, and wondered if he should try to take it back.

“I still think about – about you, or us,” Rem stammered out. “I know I shouldn't, but I still do.”

An awful sound rose up from Hux's throat. “Sometimes I can't breathe for missing you.” Ren didn't answer. “I suppose I don't get to say that, do I?” Hux said with a sigh.

“We both made some pretty big mistakes.” Ren conceded.

Hux shook his head, as if Ren could see him. “I don't remember you making any,” he said.

“Hux, I punched through your car window.”

“You did,” Hux said. “Terribly unfair of you, the car didn't deserve that at all.”

Ren gave a snort in response. “Yeah, but you kinda did.”

“I really did,” Hux corrected. He considered telling Ren that he could have taken it out on him, instead. A sudden noise in the background broke the silence that for a moment had been headed toward companionable.

“Dammit, Ben, stop hiding from everyone.” It was a female voice, and Hux felt his hackles rise in response before his higher brain functions kicked back in. Ren was visiting family, the girl was almost certainly a relation. Probably. Hopefully.

“Oh my GOD, that's him, isn't it? Benjamin Skywalker, you did NOT call him.” The voice rose in volume. “Hey, asshole!” A loud, fumbling sound ricocheted through the line, and the voices became muffled. “Out of – business – alone!” The unpleasant sound returned, followed by Ren's voice.

“So that's my cousin Rey,” he explained, as if Hux had just shook her hand.

“Lovely girl, I'm sure.” Hux was a bit bothered at her vehement response. “Made her tell you everything about me, did she?”

“Didn't really have to tell her all that much.”

“Ah. Good judge of character, that one.” Hux leaned back against the arm of the couch, stretching out his legs. The conversation had stalled out and he racked his mind, trying to find something to keep it alive. He wound up looking at the stereo, thinking about that night in the concert hall, and then the words were on his lips before he'd really thought them through.

“The last track on that mix you made for me. That was you.”

“Yeah,” Ren answered, mumbling a bit as he continued. “Just something I was messing around with. No big deal.”

“I have to disagree. You had the entire music hall entranced.” Hux realized belatedly that he had just admitted to being there himself.

“I only played it because you were there,” Ren said, a concession to the admission. “It's never on the set list. It's not for,” Ren paused. “It's not for them.”

It was a long minute before Hux could respond. “It's beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“Kylo,” Hux began, unsure if he should ask the question on the tip of his tongue, but for all he knew, it might be his last chance. “Could I, that is, would it be all right if I came to see you?”

His request was met with silence.

“I'll let your cousin take her best shot. She seems to want to hurt me rather badly.”

“Hux, I don't think that's a good idea.”

Hux's heart sank. “All right,” he said. “Would you – when you're back in town, would you let me know?”

“I may not be back in town for a while,” came the response.

Hux's heart took up permanent residence in his stomach. “Well, that's –

“Yeah.” Ren sounded nearly as disappointed as Hux felt, but there was no room to argue with his tone. Hux heard another female voice in the background. “Benjamin! I did not ask you home for Christmas so you could ignore everyone. Have you regressed back to sixteen?”

“I should go,” Ren said, staying on the line.

“Can I call you again sometime?” There was only silence on the line, and Hux pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, lifting up his glasses. The room blurred. Negotiating a wartime truce might have been easier than this.

“Yeah,” Ren answered eventually.

“Will you pick up, if I do?”

“Probably,” Ren answered, the hint of a tease in his tone.

“Good,” Hux answered, not bothering to hide his relief.

The woman in the background said Ren's name again, his old name, as if Hux were on the line with a total stranger. “Yeah, ok,” Hux heard him say as if from a distance. “Mom, seriously – ok, fine.” Hux heard the phone shift. “I really do have to go,” Ren said. “Pretend to be a good son, and all that.”

“I can't imagine you have to pretend at that,” Hux said.

“She always wanted me to be someone else,” Ren said, and Hux could almost see the shrug that always followed that particular shift in tone.

“Don't be,” Hux said firmly. “Don't ever be anyone else.”

A scoff was Ren's only reply on the subject. “Goodnight Hux,” he said, and Hux felt as though he'd lost his grip on something.

“Goodnight,” he echoed, holding the phone to his ear long after the line went dead. He was nearly asleep when the book slipped off his chest and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. A small light flashed from beneath his hand, showing 1 new text.

_ happy christmas _

He smiled down at the device as if Ren could see him. He typed out a simple reply and left the couch with the empty cookie tin in favor of his bed. 

_ Merry Christmas, Kylo _

 

This was still the dream. Hux stood at parade rest, the front of his uniform empty of all accolades. His hat was too large and kept sliding down over his eyes. A beige DRASH tent covered the grave site, impossibly shaking in a light breeze. The dunes made for an uneven plot, and the rows of chairs were slowly sinking down. The wind picked up, filling the priest's mouth with sand as he tried to give a blessing. Turning around, Hux saw rows and rows of familiar faces being worn away by the stinging grains. The dune destabilized beneath him and he fell, his hands pulled down and down. The coffin popped open with a sound like gunfire and there was nothing inside at all.

 

The clock showed three am on December 31 when a brief hum from his phone woke Hux from restless dreams. It had been a long week. Three simple words flashed up on the lock screen:  _ I miss you _ . It was a long time before Hux could summon up the courage to reply.

_ I miss you, too _ .

An hour of tossing and turning only left Hux exhausted. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands across his face, trying to think about anything else. It didn't work, his mind filled with the image of Ren awake late into the night, fingers hovering over the keys. Did Ren hesitate before sending the message? Did he think about what it would do to Hux when he saw it? Or did he just type in those three precious words and send them without any forethought?

Hux wanted to ask him, but he wanted to do it in person. Wanted to say those words against Ren's lips, his fingers in Ren's hair, a hand on his cheek. Wanted to hold him and feel the warmth radiating from his skin. But Ren had asked him to keep his distance, and Hux was trying, he truly was.

Two hours spent chasing the pre-dawn chill couldn't kick the notion that he needed to be somewhere else. Hux ran as if being chased, something massive and unseen dogging his heels. The last day of the year usually left Hux a bit melancholy, not at the passing of the year, but at the thought of the next year being exactly the same. It was a sentiment he rarely felt the rest of the year, content within the pages of his own story. This was a new sort of restless kinetics. He didn't want the year to turn, unless it was turning back.

He opened the store entirely by rote, giving Xander and Molly distracted, perfunctory greetings before retreating to his office. The numbers jumped and swam, refusing to stay in their boxes. No amount of coffee cleared his head, and a furtive cigarette on the back steps only worked his nerves. The world outside was wet and half frozen and infinitely preferable to the stuffy confines of the shop. When his fingers grew red and stiff from the cold, joints refusing to bend, Hux reluctantly went back inside. Stamping the feeling back into his feet, he wandered out onto the sales floor in an attempt at distraction.

A kaleidoscope of frost on the windows painted a surreal landscape of the busy street beyond. Hux walked down every row, from Speculative Fiction to Natural Sciences, summoning restless ghosts. Ren looming over Cassie by the graphic novels, grinning from ear to ear when she held up a volume of The Sandman. Sat cross-legged on the floor in Poetry, eyes closed to listen as Mitaka read aloud from Burnt Norton without a single stutter. The constant back and forth with Thanisson over Borges and Burroughs, Palahniuk to Pynchon, spilling out of the break room and into Fiction.

Pausing in the History stacks, Hux ran his fingers across the spines. He imagined Ren's fingerprints, saw him thumbing through a volume on the Albigensian Crusade, debating Cathar theology with Kent. Everywhere Hux looked, he saw a missing piece.

All the customers blurred into one another, until one impossible to ignore came through the doors. An arctic blast of wind followed her inside, and Hux shivered in the sudden chill. Phasma stopped a few feet away from him, tilting her head as she looked him over.

“You look miserable,” she said by way of greeting.

“How observant,” Hux answered with a wry twist of his mouth. “You look amazing, as always.”

“Incorrigible,” she said. Before Hux knew it, she had taken him by the arm and led him to the long study table in the far back, strategically located between Non-Fiction and the coffee bar. Setting down her handbag with a heavy thunk, she looked him in the eye. “Out with it,” she demanded.

Hux rifled through a stack of ready-made answers and conversation changers, watching the flickering glow from the hearth play across the angular planes of her face. He would have rather sat anywhere but this table, images hot from Ren’s mouth rising to the surface of his mind. Phasma snapped her fingers in front of his face. Hux sighed, and went straight to the point. She always drew the truth out of him in the end.

“You won't remember, but there was a young man loitering about the cemetery gates when we buried my father.” He opened his mouth to continue but Phasma cut him off.

“The one you kept staring at?” she asked.

Hux left out a huff. “Yes, well,” he dissembled, oddly irritated that she noticed. “It's the strangest thing. I didn't remember him until I'd already given him a job.”

Phasma turned her head slightly in unseemly interest. “Is that so?”

“One day last spring,” Hux explained.  “It was pouring, and he came in just after you left. We were short staffed, and he was vaguely qualified, and I couldn't put my finger on it but he seemed – I don't know, familiar?” Hux shook his head. “The short version is that I couldn't keep my hands off him, we ended up in something – strange, and irresistible, but then I ruined everything and lost him.” Hux ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “He's the best thing that's ever happened to me, Phas, and I pushed him away.”

“By 'strange,' you mean what, exactly?” Phasma asked, an unsavory gleam in her eye.

“It wasn't all dinner and films and kisses goodnight,” Hux said, coating the words in a generous layer of sarcasm. There hadn't been any dinners, or any films, Hux realized, several months too late. Maybe there should have been. At the very least, there should have been a lot more kisses goodnight.

Phasma waggled her eyebrows. “It wasn't just sex, either, or you wouldn't look like such a wreck.” She leaned her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm.

“No,” Hux admitted reluctantly. “It wasn't just sex.” He glanced away, watching two girls with crayon colored hair carry steaming mugs from the counter and settle in beside the fireplace. They linked their hands together, leaning into one another with casual intimacy and Hux's chest ached at the sight. He was utterly, hopelessly fucked and it was no less true now than it had been in September.

“Did he know?” Phasma asked softly, watching his face.

“Did he know what?” Hux questioned, turning his attention back to her.

Phasma fixed him with a glare that would have had her minions at the firm scurrying to obey her orders. “Don't you play coy with me, Julian Huxley. You understand exactly what I'm asking.”

Hux remained silent for too long, and she reached across the table to flick one finger against his forehead. He jerked back with an indignant noise. “No,” he said irritably. “He didn't, and it doesn't matter anyway because he's gone and he won't be coming back.” He settled back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You wanted to know why I'm miserable, there you go.”

“Pessimism may not be your best quality, Hux, but it is a defining one.” Phasma crossed her arms over her chest. “Stop wallowing, you absolute arse. Go find him, say what you need to, and respect the answer he gives you. If it's over, move on. If it isn't, stop being a coward and tell him you love him.”

“I'm not a coward,” he said angrily. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Phasma would play to his deepest fears in the name of motivation.

“Not in general, no,” Phasma conceded. “But in this, you are. God knows, you've always been a bit dense, but I overlooked it because you were a genius with retro modernism. I shouldn't have to be the one telling you this,” she sniffed. “Don't you have any other friends?”

“I prefer employees,” Hux answered. “I can tell them exactly when to show up and when it’s time for them to fuck off.” He focused on the line of Sociology titles shelved just above her head instead of meeting her ridicule head on, a copy of  _ Outliers _ staring him down. God, he hated that book. 

“Good to know you haven’t changed,” Phasma said dryly. “Look, if you want your little soulmate back in your life, you're not going to get him by hiding in here and sulking like an overgrown child. You're going to have to do something to deserve him.”

“That's the problem,” Hux said, staring down at the wood grain. “I don't.”

“'Course you do,” she insisted. “I’m an excellent judge of character, and I wouldn’t waste any time on you if you weren’t actually worth something. It may be way down inside that black hole you call a heart, but it’s there. Now,” she said, hands spread out on the table with a look of purpose. “I'm going to browse, and if you're still here by the time I get to the register, I will tell your business to the entire staff.”

“You wouldn't,” Hux said, narrowing his eyes.

“Test me.” Phasma pushed the chair back from the table and strode briskly toward the Motivational section, shaking out a black bag with the First In Order logo splashed across the side. 

Hux dragged a hand across his face, catching a bit on stubble he hadn't realized was there. Phasma was right, he was a wreck. It remained to be seen whether or not he could shore himself up and follow her advice, or if he even should. Ren didn't want to see him, he'd made that clear. The thought of a second chance had its allure, but it came at the price of profound disrespect.

_ Red _ , Hux thought. It was a line he couldn't cross.

When Hux left the table, he paced the entire floor, end to end, only to wind up exactly where he started. It was after noon, and business at the counter held steady. Than and Mitaka managed the registers with a fluid ease between them. Amy helped a shy young woman navigate Paranormal Romance, while Matt served up a steady stream of winter-themed lattes at the bar. A comforting hum expanded to fill the space, a mingling of sounds that made up his everyday world. The slick whisper of hardcovers sliding from the shelves, the fresh rustle and snap of newly printed pages turning, the quiet discussions held while huddled near the fireplace.

Each varied task in perfect sync, every thing in its right place, and all of it without an ounce of input from Hux. The roof wouldn't cave in if he stepped out from under it. Everything could still catch fire, of course, or flood, or – he was going to stop thinking about it. Things might not run like clockwork in his absence, but run they would.

From the moment Hux first put pencil to paper, Flagship had been his solace. It was his order and his peace, and a light on when he needed it most. It was where he belonged, but somewhere along the line it had become his hideout instead of his home. His morning runs were solitary, the paths he followed rarely traveled. Everything from inventory to groceries arrived in convenient packaging at his door. He'd stopped wandering the city he loved so well in favor of quiet evenings in.

For a while, he'd had a reason to rejoin the world. For a while, the possibilities were worth the fear. Now he was just treading water, every day the same as the next. Hux thought it was Sylvia Plath who wrote of standing between two mirrors, each day before and ahead an identical reflection without even the possibility of variation. Ironic, Hux thought. He'd hated her poetry in school.

Maybe it was time to take a vacation. Go somewhere warm. He climbed the steps to the loft and sat down, first on a kitchen stool, then on the couch, and eventually at his drafting table. Each sketch was progressively more useless, and ended up wadded into balls in the trash bin. He rested his head against the wood and wondered if he had any vodka.

Something buzzed, and Hux realized it was his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he stared down at the screen in disbelief.

_ I changed my mind. _

Hux wasn't sure what to say, so he typed out the first thought he had.  _ About missing me? _

_ No. About seeing you. _

All the breath in his lungs caught fire at the words. His head spun, his thoughts hazy and just shy of wild. Maybe, Hux thought. Maybe sometimes, deserving or not, you got the second chance you needed. He hadn't found the courage to reply before another text came in.

_ I have some gigs coming up, so I'll be back in town. _

_         When? _

_ End of February. _

_         That's a long time. _

Hux regretted the message the moment he sent it. There was no reply, and it made him want to pull his hair out. He surrounded himself day and night with wordcraft, but he never knew the right thing to say when it really counted. Regardless, the light had changed color. Ren wanted to see him.

The needling urge to be somewhere else, to be out the door and on the road returned in full force. Hux hadn't been to Mount Bespin since the funeral, but he still remembered the way. He didn't know how to get to Ren's cousin's house, but he could probably track down his mother's business. If he left now, it might still be open. If he left now, he might be able to breathe again before February.

Hux grabbed his wallet and a heavy coat before finding Amy on the sales floor. He pulled her aside, and her face shifted from mild attention to concern as he spoke. “Something came up and I'm going out of town, at least for the night,” he said. “Close up early enough to get everyone home before the drunks come out, all right?”

She nodded. “Everything okay?”

“I don't know yet,” Hux answered honestly. “I hope so.”


	11. Chapter 11

Mount Bespin was an historic resort town, home to an artists enclave and small state university. Three hours up an easy stretch of highway brought Hux into the foothills, where the road unfortunately narrowed to two uneven lanes. Winding around increasingly steep curves, it scaled the side of the mountain that lent the town its name. It was dark by the time Hux passed the first poorly lit sign entreating tourists to 'See Cloud City!'

Been there, Hux thought. Done that. Cemetery 1/10, contains graves, would not recommend.

Headlights illuminated a fine dusting of snow on the ground, thickening a bit as he rose higher in elevation. During the day, Hux might have seen the thick banks of fog and low lying clouds that earned the nickname. On the morning of his father's funeral, the nearby hills had seemed to float, free and clear of the earth below.

Trusting the GPS, he rounded three bends and crossed a bridge small enough to make him cringe. One more turn past an impressive Greek Revival courthouse, and there it was. Hux almost couldn’t believe his luck. An old farmhouse with flaking green paint sat close to the street, the yard elevated by about a foot of loosely mortared stones. A large porch wrapped around the front, hosting several rocking chairs and a few scattered tables. It was bounded on its left by the post office, faced with nearly identical stonework, and on the right by a two story brick building housing a coffee shop and several artist galleries. The entire downtown likely predated the Civil War.

A carved wooden sign on the front lawn spelled out the words Skywalker Sundries, and beneath, 'Feed Your Head.' The lights were on inside the house, and Hux pulled onto the narrow drive that led to a car park in the rear. The home was build in true New England style, the little house that probably still housed a kitchen connected to the back, and a large, barn-like structure attached from there. A square screened in porch draped in brown creeper vines extended from the gable end, and seemed to be the informal entrance. Hux took an immediate dislike to the entire thing, wondering how you could keep track of your customers – or your merchandise – with at least two entrances that likely led to different rooms.

His heart hammered in his chest, and he threw the Rover in park, taking a moment to gather his wits. He wondered if he should just text Ren now instead of starting what might well be a wild goose chase. If he sent a message, there was the likelihood of being rejected sight unseen, and after coming all this way, Hux didn't think he could bear it.

Taking a deep breath, Hux steadied his hands on the steering wheel. The next few words out of his mouth would be very important. He couldn't very well ask Ren's family where he was staying if he came off sounding like an ass. Of course, he thought glumly, they probably already knew he was an ass, and there wasn’t much he could do about past impressions.

Pulling open the screen door, Hux stepped inside the porch lit primarily by fairy lights. There were comfortable armchairs and low tables surrounded by shelves of paperbacks, spines broken, covers curling up at the edges. A sign above the largest shelf indicated they were 4 for a dollar. The wretched, mouldering paperbacks were for sale, if barely just.

The bizarre truth clicked with a terrible spark in Hux's mind. The farmhouse was a used bookshop. Ren's mother ran a used bookshop in the town where his father died. Hux stood in the center of the room like an animal caught in a sudden glare. Antique tempered glass filled a wide set of double doors leading inside, and the hand-lettered sign read O P E N. Now or never, he thought. It wasn't as if things could get any weirder.

Of course, life had to prove Hux wrong.

He reached for the large, curving handle on the door and pulled, only to find it stuck. The curving metal leaf set above the handle wouldn't shift down when he pressed, and the door wouldn't budge inward either. A young woman with long dark hair peered through the glass, raising an eyebrow at him.

“We're closed,” she said through the door, flipping the sign around in his face.

Hux rapped sharply on the glass as she turned away. “Please,” he said, louder than he would have liked. “I'm looking for Ben.” The name was foreign on his tongue, but he knew Ren's chosen name would earn him no traction here.

She glanced back at him for a moment, and then Hux heard several voices mingling beyond the door. There seemed to be some disagreement as to whether or not to open it. One voice rose up above the others, and Hux recognized it with a sinking feeling. A lock clicked and the door swung inward revealing a wide-eyed girl, her dark hair pulled up in knots, freckles dotting her cheeks. Hux tilted his head slightly; he supposed he could see the resemblance.

“Oh my god,” she said softly, looking him up and down. “You're him, aren't you? You have to be.”

“You must be Rey,” he said, offering his hand in civilized greeting. She probably hated him, but Hux figured it couldn't hurt to be polite. She didn't take it, and his opinion of her was not improved.

“Ben isn't here,” she lied. Hux couldn't say exactly how he knew she was lying, only that she was.

“You don't have to let me in,” Hux bargained. “But if you could just ask him if he wouldn't mind speaking with me, I'd be very grateful.”

“I don't want your gratitude,” Rey replied, snapping off the end of each word. “I don't want anything to do with you, and neither does Ben.”

Hux shoved his hands in the pockets of his overcoat, looking down at the cracks in the concrete slab. “Would you let him decide that for himself?”

“Rey,” came a voice from inside, an older woman by the sound. “I haven't closed out the register, I don't mind one more.”

“He's not a customer!” Rey called over her shoulder. “He's Ben's ex-boyfriend.” A swarm of chatter rose from behind the door, filling his stomach with a nervous buzz.

“Can I at least come in for a moment?” Hux asked, painfully self-conscious. “It's quite cold.” Rey's face changed, softening somehow at the edges, and she stepped back to pull the door fully open. Hux brushed past her, trying not to trip on the step up into the house proper.

The interior of the shop was like nothing Hux had ever seen. Wooden shelves painted every shade of the rainbow lined the walls, roughly color coded by subject. Books practically jumped from the shelves, overflowing and disorganized within their categories. Potted plants trailed their leaves across the paneling, held up by hooks or nails driven into the wood. Bins of record albums lined one wall, crammed up against stacks of CDs and cassette tapes. Hux stared at the last, blinking for a few seconds, before his mind would let him move on. Stacks of wooden crates turned on their sides held every sort of novelty under the sun, from action figures to polyhedral dice. Hux's thoughts turned immediately to the dinosaur toys that found their way into every nook and cranny of his shop.

Ren had worked here. Depending on how long the shop had been open, he might well have grown up here. Hux felt as if he had accidentally opened someone's diary and read the first page.

Rey stood off to one side, arms crossed over her chest. A girl with a cloud of curly, lime green hair peered at him from behind a stack of paperbacks, a pricing gun in hand. A skeletal man who could have been 17 or 27 glanced up occasionally from a book the size of two telephone directories, a box full of records beside him on the floor. A curtain of brown hair fell across his eyes nearly down to his chin, and Hux wanted to march over and cut it with a pair of scissors.

His gaze finally landed on the cash register – there was only one – and the woman standing behind it. Easily in her 50s, she wore her graying hair twisted up in a braided crown. She was also staring at Hux as if she might pin him to a board like an insect.

“Is that true?” she asked, leaning on the counter. Hux blinked for a moment, trying to remember what he might be admitting. Oh, right. Being her son's former boyfriend. The word pinched something in his brain; he'd never thought of Ren in those terms. It had been an arrangement, almost formal, until Ren kissed him and it became something greater, breaking through all the walls in his head.

“Yes,” Hux said, not feeling inclined to elaborate.

“He's also Ben's boss,” Rey added unhelpfully. The girl with green hair choked at the words and turned it into a cough.

“Nice,” came another unfamiliar voice, rudely elongating the vowel. Hux looked over his shoulder to see the girl who first refused him entry to the shop. She rested one elbow on Rey's shoulder, her tan skin in contrast to Rey's pale complexion. “Sounds like somebody didn't read up on appropriate workplace relations.”

Hux narrowed his eyes in irritation. “That isn't really any of your business.”

“Oh believe me, Mr. Hux, it is  _ my _ business,” the older woman said. “I've heard far more about you over the past week than I ever wanted to.”

Hux tilted his head, quirking a slight smile. “Is that so?”

“Good lord.” She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re more arrogant than my ex-husband.”

Hux frowned, and it was all downhill from there. Negotiations had ground to an uncomfortable halt when Hux heard the sound of a door opening from another part of the house. Two voices in friendly conversation drifted into the room where Hux stood, enemies on all sides, and to his surprise he recognized both of them. Of all the ridiculous jokes life had played on him, this last took the cake.

Rounding the corner, Ren balanced a tray with four cups of coffee, laughing at something the man beside him said. Equally weighed down, the other man wore an open, honest expression, the smile that lived there perfectly at home. Finn, Hux thought, the sight of him in this shop patently absurd. Hux still thought of him as the employee that got away. He'd been the perfect associate for a solid year, until he'd turned in his notice and left the same day. He might as well have fallen off the planet, for all Hux heard from him again.

Now he was wearing an orange shirt that read BB's Old Time Roastery and an aviator's jacket. Finn opened his mouth as if to make an announcement, probably that the coffee had arrived, when suddenly it snapped shut. He pulled up short, adjusting the weight of the tray he carried to put a hand on Ren's arm.

“Now might not be the best time –” he said, interrupted when Ren met Hux's eye across the room. Ren nearly dropped the tray in his hands, and Finn had to act quickly, ending up juggling them both. Rey rushed over to help and he shot her a grateful, if harried, smile, their hands sliding over each other along the cardboard.

Time slowed to a crawl, a hopelessly fond smile transforming Rey's face, one cup of coffee nearly tipping off its tray. Ren didn't move, his expression fading from genuine cheer into absolute shock. Hux could have kicked himself for stealing that happiness from him. This wasn't at all how he had imagined things would go.

Taking the tray back from Finn, Ren set it on a wooden crate. It wobbled a bit as he started across the floor, heading straight for Hux. His face had closed down, the shock now hidden behind a pallor of disinterest. He grabbed Hux by the wrist and dragged him out onto the patio, only letting him go to pull the door shut much harder than was necessary.

“What the hell, Hux?” Ren nearly yelled. “I told you not to come here.” He glanced over at Hux's shoulder and frowned at what he saw. This time he grabbed Hux by the arm and pulled him out into the yard, letting the screen door slam shut behind them. He turned back to Hux, clearly still waiting for a response.

“I – your text, earlier, I thought, maybe,” Hux lost his words, staring up hopefully into Ren's face. He was furious, and everything Hux wanted to say seemed inadequate. “February just seemed too far away.”

Ren looked at him in disbelief. “I tell you that I might like to see you, maybe, in a few months, and you show up on my mother's doorstep a few hours later? What is  _ wrong _ with you?”

“Everything, apparently,” Hux said, directing his words to the ground. A light snow had begun to fall since he first went inside. Tiny crystals of ice landed in Ren's hair, reflecting the porch light.

“Get over yourself,” Ren snapped, pulling Hux's attention back to his lips. “I stayed in town, Hux. I wasn't exactly hard to find. You came to one of my shows for fuck's sake, but then you disappeared.” Ren ran his fingers through his hair, snagging on a knot and jerking his hand free with another curse. “You've known since Christmas that I was here. If you were determined to barge in on my family, why wait until now?”

Hux winced. “I didn't think about it that way.”

“Of course you didn't,” Ren said. “You weren't thinking about anyone but yourself, as usual.”

“You didn't want to see me before, and I tried my best to respect that.” Hux tried not to react in kind to Ren's anger, to remind himself that he was the one at fault, had always been at fault, and he was here now to beg forgiveness. “Today you told me that you'd changed your mind.”

“One text and you drive up a mountain?” Ren looked skeptical.

“It seems so, yes.” Hux looked up, his gaze level.

“What if I'd been across the country?” Ren asked, deciding to be petulant.

“Yes.”

“Across the ocean?” Ren quirked one eyebrow.

“Still, yes.” Hux answered with a sigh. “Are you finished mocking me?”

“Probably not.” Ren answered, kicking a small pebble across the car park.

Hux pressed three fingers against his forehead, his thumb resting on his chin. “Kylo, I drove up to see you because this isn't the sort of conversation you have over the phone.”

“What conversation is that?” Ren asked, sounding bored. They could have been discussing the weather from the blank expression on his face.

Hux squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, tugging at his hair. He hadn't meant to start here, at the crux of it all. He had assumed he'd have time, some small talk or introductions, or hell, maybe a tour before he ended up chewing the scenery. Trust Ren to cut right through it all. Still, he was the one who'd jumped in the car and driven four hours on blind hope.

“I don't know how this is supposed to go.” Hux said, his throat aching. “I have absolutely no frame of reference, and you have every reason to never want to come back.”

“It's hard to leave a place you've never been.”

“Oh for god's sake, will you just listen to me for a moment?” Ren rolled his eyes and shifted his weight on his hip. “I had my life all figured out before you.” Hux said, his own anger rising despite his best efforts to hold it in check. “I thought I knew what I wanted, that I had what I needed. But everything changed when you walked through those doors, Kylo. Everything!”

Ren's expression shifted ever so slightly, and Hux took it for encouragement. “You woke me up, you showed me a glimpse of what it might be like to actually live.”

“I wanted to help you,” Ren admitted, the words slow to leave his mouth. “I thought we could help each other, you know? But I was an idiot, all right? I know that now.”

“You're not an idiot, Kylo.” Hux scoffed. Ren was many things, stupid not among them.

“But I am the worst mistake of your life.”

The world stopped. Tiny prisms of ice hung suspended in the air between them, a cage of reflected light. The words drifted past Hux slowly, and he couldn't process their meaning. His mind and his heart both stalled out at once. Hux stumbled back, nearly slipping on the icy ground as he struggled to catch up.

“Not you, Kylo,” Hux said miserably, shaking his head. “How could you ever think – It was what I did. The way I hurt you. That was the mistake I made, the worst thing I've ever done in my life and there's no way to take it back.” A tremor fought its way out through his bones. He needed to be out of the open, needed to get somewhere that felt safe, but the only safe place he had was Ren.

Silence lingered uncomfortably in the wake of Hux's confession. “No,” Ren said eventually. “You can't erase what you did.”

“Then tell me what I can do,” Hux pleaded. “Tell me where to start.”

“Stop trying to take it back,” Ren said simply with a shake of his head. “You can't. Trust me, I've done a lot of shitty things in my life, fucked up some really good things. Everyone makes mistakes. I don't need you to be perfect, Hux. But I wasted months waiting on an apology that was never going to come.”

“I did try -”

“One that wouldn't fit on a post-it note,” Ren clarified, cutting him off. “That's all I wanted, but it was too much for you to give.”

“I knew it wouldn't be enough,” Hux said, looking anywhere but at Ren.

“Did you? Or did you just not want to work hard enough to find out?” Ren tilted his head and bit his lip before continuing. “Why do you think I stayed, Julian? You were so convinced I wouldn't forgive you that you never gave me the chance to try.” He looked down at the ground, scuffing a line through the rising cover of snow. “I did, you know. But then you said all those other things, and I – I'm not really over those yet.”

“Other things?” Hux asked warily. He'd said so many wrong-headed things, it turned out he needed an itemized list to keep track. That thought might have been funny, in a different situation. One that didn't matter quite this much.

“When you saw the cuff.” Ren said, one hand tugging on his hair. “I know I wasn't supposed to wear it anymore, but I just – you're not the only one who can't sleep, all right? Sometimes it just helped.” Ren squirmed, clearly embarrassed, and Hux felt sick.

“Not supposed to?” He asked, or tried anyway. The rest of the sentence lodged somewhere in his throat.

“After you kicked me out,” Ren explained, staring somewhere around Hux's knees. “Isn't that why you left the key? To tell me I wasn't -” he gestured in frustration. “I don't know, whatever I was to you before?”

“I didn't think you'd want it,” Hux said dumbly, horrified at what he'd unknowingly let Ren believe. “Not after what I said. I left the key so you could get rid of it, and all I'd done.”

“I didn't want to get rid of it!” Ren looked back up, cheeks flushed and dotted with errant flakes of snow. “It made me feel safe, Hux. You made me feel safe, until you just made me angry instead.”

Hux struggled to process everything that weighed down the air around them. He was certain he’d never made anyone feel safe in his entire life. Chalk another first up to Kylo Ren. He knew he should say something, but he was afraid it could come out all wrong. Surrounded once again by books, much used and well loved, he still couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Here's the thing, Hux.” Ren looked up, focusing his gaze somewhere far over Hux's shoulder. “I love you,” he said, each word separate and distinct as if spaced apart on paper. “And it's killing me. It's been eating me alive since I left.”

Hux shrank back, hearing only the worst. “Yes, well.” he said shortly, his voice sounding brittle from the cold. It was too much, knowing Ren thought he'd wasted his time, that he hated everything Hux had made him feel. Blood pounded in his ears, and Hux realized belatedly that he was freezing. “Thank you for your honesty.” He turned around, focusing on the next step, and then the next, all the way to where he'd parked. 

“So that's it? That's really all you have to say?” Ren followed after Hux, his footsteps heavy in the still night air.

“I'm walking away,” Hux snapped, turning around. “That's what you want, isn't it? For me to leave you the hell alone? Well fine, message received, you'll never hear from me again.”

“All this time, and I'm still not worth the effort?” Ren's voice went soft, the anger and indifference falling away. He looked the way Hux felt, cold and broken and scared.

“You've just said you hate me, what the hell else am I supposed to do?” Hux knew he was yelling, knew it was horrible of him, but there just wasn't anything left. He wasn't even sure if he wanted a response or not. Hux simply stared at Ren across the space between them, struggling for breath, struggling to hold himself together and failing.

Ren caved first, closing the distance to cup Hux's face in his hands before pulling him into a fierce kiss. It was messy and desperate, Hux's hands sliding first to Ren's arms, then up to his neck and winding up tangled in his hair. Soft curls fell over his fingers as they crashed against the side of the car. Ren moved his hands from Hux's cheeks to wrap his arms around his neck, holding him there as if he never meant to let go. Hux tried to pull back, confused, but Ren kissed him like the world was ending, like they'd never get another chance.

“Why are you doing this?” Hux asked when Ren at last drew back to breathe. “Why would you be so cruel?”

“Talking wasn't working,” Ren answered with quiet insistence. “I need you to remember what this feels like.”

“Believe me,” Hux said, his voice gone hoarse. “I never forgot.”

“I know you, Hux. You didn't come all this way just to apologize and tell me goodbye.”

“No,” Hux said. “I came to apologize and take you home.” Hux let his confusion and weariness drag the words down as soon as they left his mouth.

Ren pulled back, dropping his hands to his sides and staring down at his shoes. For a moment, Hux thought he was laughing. “You really thought that would work?” Ren asked. “That you could just show up and we'd go back to the way things were, no questions asked?”

“I don't know!” Hux shouted. “I don't know anything anymore. Just that you were mine, and then you weren't and that was all my fault.” His voice softened and he nearly sank to the ground. “You took all the light with you when you left.”

“I'm still yours,” Ren admitted, his anger dissolving until his voice sounded numb. “That never really changed. It just hurt too much to tell you.”

Hux broke with the smallest of sounds. He was lost, utterly adrift, and there was only one way back. No half-measures, he thought. All in. “I don't think - I don't think I've ever loved anyone,” he said hesitantly, reaching out to brush the back of his hand down Ren's cheek. “But now there's you.”

“And?” Ren asked, leaning in close enough to share Hux's breath.

“And I love you,” he whispered against Ren's lips. The words tore something in his chest, dragged out from their hiding place. “I didn’t think I could love anyone, I thought that part of me was just - missing, but I've never needed anyone the way I need you.”

Ren breathed in deep, lifting his head to press a kiss to Hux's forehead. “This isn't going to be an easy thing,” he said, as clear a warning as Hux had ever heard. He knew the tired old phrase, that nothing worth having was ever easy, that complications somehow elevated a relationship beyond the ordinary. Hux had never quite agreed, but he was beginning to think maybe he just hadn't understood.

“I'll try if you will?” Hux offered, fighting the urge to cross his fingers.

Ren nodded slowly, leaving a soft kiss at the corner of Hux's mouth. He moved up, kissing his cheek, his temple, and then the world dissolved into a storm of angry sounds. Hux cringed at the loud pops and bangs, pressing forward against Ren's chest. Strong arms wrapped around his back, holding him close.

“New Year's Eve,” Ren whispered against his hair.

“Fireworks,” Hux said in response, feeling sheepish. “I think I forgot, for a moment.”

“Kids have been setting them off all day,” Ren said apologetically. “I should have mentioned.” Hux didn't step back, greedy for the warmth and safety of Ren's embrace, and Ren didn't let him go.  

“It's fucking cold out here,” Hux observed. Ren huffed out a short laugh.

“So let's go inside,” he suggested. “Ready to meet the family?”

“No,” Hux said truthfully. “Lead the way, then.”

Ren rubbed his hand along Hux's back before pulling away. Hux followed him back across the porch, in through the double doors, and stopped when four pairs of eyes turned toward them expectantly.

Hux keenly felt their scrutiny, and looking away, he noticed that the other staff had made themselves scarce. A man with curly dark hair and tan skin had joined the tribunal, his obscenely orange shirt a match to Finn's. The pair of them huddled in close conversation with Rey, but now all sound in the room had ceased.

“So,” Ren said, trying a casual tone. “This is Hux.”

“We've met,” Rey said smartly, and Ren rolled his eyes. He moved his hand to rest between Hux's shoulder blades, and Hux couldn't help but lean into it.

“Why don't we pretend that you haven't,” Ren suggested. Rey met Hux's eyes across the room with a scowl.

“Honestly,” Hux said, shrinking a bit in the face of so many eyes fixed on him. “We were just leaving, really, so -”

“Hux,” Ren whispered angrily.  

“Are you insane?” Leia asked, as if it were a foregone conclusion. “You're not driving back tonight! For one, I'm not letting you just show up and abscond with my son.”

“Mom,” Ren groaned, looking mortified.

“Don't you start,” Leia said, pointing a finger at the both of them. “For two, it's the drunkest night of the year, and you are not risking your life just to get out of an uncomfortable situation.”

“We could all just get drunk here,” Ren suggested. “Might help.”

Hux coughed and avoided Leia's withering gaze. “I, ah, I suppose,” Hux started, running his hand through his hair. It was wet with melted snow and god only knew what it looked like. “I could just get a room somewhere.” The thought of what sort of motels operated in this tacky tourist trap of a town gave him a moment's panic. Old, cheap, and very likely sold out for the holiday weekend. Hux supposed he could always sleep in his car. 

Ren's hand reached out to encircle his wrist, sliding down to thread their fingers back together. He shook his head, giving a gentle squeeze, and Hux looked to him in gratitude. Whichever terrible option he picked, it seemed Ren was willing to brave it with him.  

“Oh for god's sake,” Rey chimed in. “You can stay at my place if you stop eye-fucking in front of us.”

“Rey Allana Skywalker!” Leia's reprimand was both sharp and immediate. “Inappropriate!”

Ignoring his mother's anger, Ren looked gratefully in Rey's direction. “Much appreciated,” he said, and Hux nodded his thanks, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

For her part, Leia still looked as though she were considering roasting Hux on a skewer. “I liked your idea better,” she said, boring a hole through him with her stare. Rey headed toward the back door with an irritated grumble that might have been words, Ren close on her heels. Hux gave Leia a shrug as he followed.

Once they hit the car park, Hux grabbed a small bag from the Rover, packed simply with a change of clothes and basic necessities. It had been there so long he'd nearly forgotten about it. Hux had once favored preparedness, before driving up a mountain in the dead of winter with no plan whatsoever had sounded like a good idea.

Rey led them down a side street, then into a side alley, and then out into a well-lit rectangular green slowly filling in with snow. Several historic buildings bounded the space, most with plaques to prove it. In better weather Hux could have spent hours on one of the wrought iron benches, sketching out their plans. 

Their destination was a large Dutch Colonial, several aging cars parked haphazardly in the yard. There were lights on in most of the windows, the view inside blocked by brightly colored tapestries, sheets, or in one case, a bath towel. Strings of lights hung about the eaves and trailed down the sides. Hux nearly stepped on a massive deflated balloon that might once have resembled a snowman, and realized they were walking into off-campus university housing.

The tawdry roach motels of his imagination seemed better with every step.

Rey opened the large front door by jiggling the knob and shoving up with her shoulder. Reminding himself that it was still better than sharing space with Ren's mother, Hux followed Ren following Rey inside. They were met with shouted greetings and catcalls from a group of people lounging on two overstuffed couches around a television. Ren greeted them by name, but Rey simply gave them the finger and started up the staircase.

“You must have so many friends,” Hux directed toward Rey, and Ren elbowed him in the side.

“Will you play nice for one night, please?” Ren asked in a fierce whisper.

Stopping on the second landing, Rey glared back at the both of them. “Sorry,” Hux grumbled. The top floor had four hallways with a balcony overlooking the central staircase. A variety of laundered items hung over the railing, and Hux endeavored not to touch any of them. Rey shoved a key in a door at the corner and let them inside.

Hux nearly stopped in surprise. The apartment was small, just two bedrooms on either side of a miniscule kitchen and living space, but it was immaculate. Rey pushed past him with a huff and pointed toward a row of sturdy hooks on the wall, where Hux gladly hung up his coat.

“Just because I share a building with animals doesn't mean I have to live like one,” she threw over her shoulder. Hux would give her that. She pointed at one of the bedrooms. “Ben's been sleeping in Jess's room while she’s at her girlfriend’s, but it only has a single bed, so we'll just switch for the night, ok?”

Nodding in agreement at the one-woman hurricane, Hux glanced over at Ren, who merely shrugged. He ducked into the room on the left, leaving Hux alone with Rey. He'd seen warmer looks on the faces of enemy combatants.

“I will absolutely throw you out in the snow, don't think I won't.” She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Also, I'm kind of a big deal at bojutsu. If you break my cousin's heart  _ again _ , I will find you and I will beat the shit out of you. No lie.”

“I believe you,” Hux said. “For what it's worth, I would sooner walk through a mine field than hurt him again.” Her eyes flickered past Hux, and he turned to see Ren watching him with an amused expression.

“You two idiots deserve each other,” she pronounced, pushing away from the wall. “I'm going over to Poe's place for the fireworks.” She stopped in the open doorway to turn back around. “Don't eat all my food,” she said, pointing a finger at Ren. “And I swear to god, if you fuck in my bed, you are buying me new sheets. Maybe a new mattress.”

“Yes ma'am,” Hux said in a strangled voice, trying desperately not to laugh. She closed the door and Hux managed to wait until her footsteps hit the stairs before letting out a wheeze. He laughed until his face was red, turning into Ren's side. Ren wasn't much help, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

Wrapping his arms around Hux, Ren tugged him over to the couch. It took up almost the entire room, but it was comfortable, and somehow they both fit. Rey had two sets of bookshelves that looked handmade, stuffed to the brim with classics and science fiction novels, some of which overlapped. There was something odd about the television angled toward them, and the remote looked like it had been recently rewired. Hux didn't have the slightest desire to turn it on anyway. 

“That could have gone better,” Hux reflected, leaning back against Ren's warmth.

“Could have been worse,” Ren pointed out, looping his arms around Hux’s waist. 

“They hate me,” Hux pronounced.

“Hate is a very strong word,” Ren replied. “I’d say it’s more of an intense dislike.” Hux let out his breath in a huff and leaned back against Ren's chest, content to feel the strength of his arms around him, to breathe in the scent of him, to just be surrounded and complete.

When Hux opened his eyes, the clock read 11:30. It took a moment to sink in that he’d fallen asleep in a strange place, on a stranger’s couch, and with someone else’s arms around him. Not a dream in sight. He tried to sit up, but Ren's arms still held him in place. He covered Ren's hand with his own where it rested against his stomach, then tilted his head back to plant a kiss beneath Ren's chin. He stirred at the movement, nuzzling at Hux's hair.

“Glad to see my company is so thrilling,” Kylo murmured, his jaw cracking around a yawn.

“There's none better,” Hux assured him with a somewhat embarrassed smile. In his defense, he had just driven four hours and survived the most intense conversation of his life. “I'm sure you'll be glad to know you make an excellent pillow. I'll have to use you for that more often,” he added with a sly smirk.

“I think I can handle that,” Ren said in response. 

“Bed?” Hux murmured. “It's late.”

Ren gave a small laugh. “Our definitions of 'late' are very different.”

“Fine,” Hux said, nuzzling against his neck. “It's half eleven, the bed's wider than the couch, and I'd much rather we both be in it.”

“Sounds promising,” Ren said, opening his arms for Hux to slide out. Standing up from the cushions, Hux stretched out a hand and pulled Ren to his feet. The bedroom was small, and the bed frame equally so, but it would work. Hux took a moment to be silently grateful that Ren's large frame fit in his bed, as that was where Hux wanted most to keep him.

Slipping out of his trousers, Hux unbuttoned his shirt and hung it from a peg on Rey's dresser. He could hear Ren shuffling quickly out of his clothes behind him on the other side of the bed. He felt oddly self-conscious in his undershirt and briefs, considering Ren had already seen him naked, in more ways than one. 

The frame squeaked, and Hux turned off the small lamp on the nightstand. It was cold in the small room, and he hesitated a moment before pulling the white shirt over his head. He climbed onto the bed and slipped beneath the mismatched covers when Ren held them open. Rolling onto his side, Hux faced the wall beneath a long row of rectangular windows.

“Hux?” Ren's voice was quiet, the hand he extended to brush against Hux's back cautious. Hux reached for him in the dark, awkwardly moving Ren's hand to rest over the large scar beneath his shoulder. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and finally, finally started talking.

“I was with an aid convoy in Afghanistan, near Marjah. Our scouts had already cleared the road, but we hit a patch of IEDs and – everything just went to hell. I was stuck. The Humvee was on fire, and everyone else inside was dead.

“There's a lot I don't remember. In hospital, I was told that the man who pulled me out took a bullet to the neck for his trouble. He had a wife and child back home. There were those in my unit who didn't think it was a fair trade, and I agreed with them. I still do.”

“Hux, no, that's –”

“Let me finish,” Hux asked, and Ren fell silent. “I don't sleep well. It's part of it, or so the VA shrinks tell me. The night you spent with me, I dreamed about the ambush. It doesn't matter how many times I say I'm sorry if you don't know that it was out of fear, and not anger or ambivalence. I really am the coward you've always thought me. I'm trying to be better, I am. I want to be better for you.”

Curling in on himself, Hux wondered if he had said too much. His goal wasn't to provoke sympathy, merely to offer the explanation Ren was owed. He felt Ren's thumb slide along the largest scar, stroking lightly up and down before his hand moved across his back, searching out others to give them the same gentle treatment.

“There's a difference between being scared and being a coward,” Ren said after a too-long silence. “I knew you'd tell me when you were ready.” Ren's hand slipped around Hux's waist and he bent forward to press kisses along each ugly knot and tear. The very tip of the downward curve from a butterfly knife, wrapping around his left side. The graze from a bullet above his right hip. The diagonal scoring of sutures where his scapula had shattered and his ribs poked through.

It took several tries before Hux could get out the words stuck in his throat. Ren's lips were soft and warm and no one had ever taken such a careful inventory of his wounds. Hux wouldn't have allowed it. 

“When you asked me if I believed in fate,” Hux began, feeling Ren’s fingers tense and curl across his hip. “Everything tilted. I’ve never believed in anything, but for that one moment, looking at you - I did.” 

“Something brought you to me,” Ren insisted softly. “You don’t have to believe it, but I think there’s something out there that just - ties people together. I was always going to find you, but what happened after that was up to us.” He shifted on the mattress, curling his frame around as much of Hux as he could manage. Hux let his eyes fall shut, wondering if he could ever believe that. Some part of him wanted to, the part that felt safe and at home in Ren’s arms. 

Hux had just drifted off, Ren's arm around his waist, Ren's knees pressed into the hollows behind his own, when the scatter of shots began overhead. He tensed at the first sounds, pressing back against the warm, solid chest behind him as a glittering rain began to fall outside the window.

_ New Year's Eve _ , Hux thought. If he'd been at home, he wouldn't have heard the pops or the bangs, the crackling sound of sparks spinning down and fizzling out. Wouldn't have seen the colors reflected in the freshly fallen snow, wouldn't have felt Ren's hand slide up to cover his, twining their fingers together. Would never have known the world could be so much brighter. 


	12. Chapter 12

The sun had just crossed the horizon when Hux awoke, a hot weight plastered against him. Ren grumbled in his sleep when Hux shifted out from under him, redirecting Ren’s arm from his entire upper half to rest on his waist. Ren shuffled closer, his erection pressing against Hux’s ass. Hux rocked back against him before thinking better of it, before remembering they were in someone else’s bed. 

A pleased hum escaped Ren’s mouth and he tightened his arm around Hux. He thrust his hips forward and Hux wondered if it was possible to teach someone control in their sleep. Not that he wasn’t enjoying the situation, far from it. He couldn’t seem to stop pressing back into Ren’s ever more insistent thrusts, feeling his own cock throb at being ignored. Rolling over in his embrace, Hux pressed his lips softly against Ren’s mouth and pushed one leg between his thighs.    

Ren slowly responded to the kiss, eyes blinking open. His hand slid down to squeeze Hux’s ass, pulling him even closer. When he opened his mouth to Hux’s explorations, Hux couldn’t stop the needy sound that rose in his throat. Ren rutted against him, almost mindless, and Hux tangled his fingers in Ren’s hair. The bedframe groaned and protested beneath them, the bedsprings chiming in with a metallic squeal. 

Breaking away, breathless, Hux pressed his lips to Ren’s jaw, his ear, his throat. He froze at a sound from outside, the jingle of keys in the lock and the creaking of a door.  _ Rey _ , he thought, his mind jumbled from sleep and addled with want. Who came home this early in the morning? Couldn’t she just have enjoyed a nice lie in with her boyfriends? Ren seemed not to have heard, his thrusts growing shorter and more forceful against Hux’s hip. 

“Stop,” Hux whispered. Ren made a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl and Hux tugged hard on his hair. “Your cousin,” he whispered more firmly. 

“Don’t care,” Ren mumbled, digging his nails into Hux’s back. 

“I said stop,” Hux hissed with as much command as he could manage, given the situation. He could feel his pulse in his dick, leaking onto his briefs. Desire warred with the embarrassment of having Rey tell her entire family she’d heard them going at it this morning like rabbits. Hux couldn’t explain why it was exactly that he cared, but he did. An idea managed to surface through the turmoil in his mind and he grabbed onto it.    

"Roll over,” he whispered when Ren had managed to slow his thrusts, breathing hard. “On your back.” Ren huffed out his disagreement, but complied anyway. “Be still,” Hux ordered. “And don’t you dare make a sound.” 

Sliding down to the end of the bed as quietly as he could manage, Hux settled himself between Ren’s legs. Shooting him a wicked smile, Hux lowered his head and pressed his mouth to Ren’s erection through his boxers, the fabric already wet and clinging. Ren made a guttural sound and rocked up against him. Hux pulled away, pinching his inner thigh. 

“Quiet,” he whispered. They must have been heard by now, but damn it, Hux wanted this and his resolve was weakening. A thought intruded that he should really find a condom, but desire overrode it. He pushed down hard on Ren’s hip, hoping to keep him still. Ren bit his lip and fisted one hand in the sheet. “Good boy.”

Lapping at the stretched fabric, Hux worked his way up and tugged down the elastic, letting Ren’s cock spring free. God, he was never going to get tired of that sight. Ren was beautiful and fucking huge and Hux wanted him in his mouth right now. Wrapping one hand around the base, Hux guided the head past his lips, the glans red and swollen and dripping. He tasted amazing, even better than Hux had imagined when he’d let himself indulge in fantasy. Stroking up, he slid his mouth down, sucking gently. Ren breathed in shallow little gasps, his lips white from the pressure of his teeth. 

Working Ren’s cock into a better position, Hux let it press against his cheek, knowing it must look obscene. Ren might not have a gag reflex, but Hux did, and there was simply no way he could take it all in. Twisting his hand as he pumped the shaft, Hux watched Ren’s hand clench the sheets, his other covering his mouth. His dick jerked, and Hux increased the pressure, sucking hard. He shifted, letting Ren brush the roof of his mouth, and swallowed. Ren came in rough spasms, his hips twisting and Hux barely kept him in. Determined to take everything he gave, Hux kept a hard grip as Ren spilled down his throat. First time for everything, Hux thought, surprised at how much he enjoyed it.

Slipping back up, Hux stroked him through it, sucking every bit down. He let his tongue flick out against the slit, delighted to feel Ren twitch. When he finally went soft, Hux kissed his way up, licking at the skin between his groin and his thigh. He ran a hand over the trail of hair that led to Ren’s stomach, stroking, soothing. Ren’s eyes were still rolled back, his hand shoved between his teeth.  

“So beautiful,” Hux murmured against his skin. Kissing his way up, Hux worked his tongue against one nipple, pulling it briefly into his mouth. Ren had just let his hand fall away and Hux heard his loud intake of breath. A purposeful thunk echoed from the kitchen and Hux couldn’t stop the laughter that rose up in his throat. So much for quiet. 

“C’mere,” Ren murmured, one hand carding through Hux’s hair. Hux obliged, shifting until they were eye level. He still looked half asleep, sated, as he cupped Hux’s face in one hand. Running his thumb over Hux’s lips, he smiled. “Good morning,” he whispered. Hux kissed his thumb, then leaned in to kiss his mouth, soft but thorough. Ren moaned his approval, parting Hux’s lips with his tongue to taste himself there. 

“Want to take care of you,” Hux breathed against Ren’s lips. “Any way I can.”

“I’ll let you,” Ren promised. “You know I’ll take whatever you can give.” 

“Everything,” Hux sighed. “You can have everything.”  

 

Eventually, they both conceded to being awake. “Shower?” Hux suggested, having heard only silence from the apartment for at least 20 minutes. Ren vocally approved of the idea. Managing to make themselves presentable, they found only a note waiting for them, taped to the bedroom door.  

_ When you two morons are done, Aunt Leia wants us over for breakfast. _

“Oh god,” Hux said. 

“You’ll be fine,” Ren said, swatting his ass. “Shower. Now.”

The water in the shower ran cold, but not before Ren had pulled Hux close, back to chest, wringing a fierce orgasm from him beneath the spray. Hux saw stars, bracing himself between Ren and the wall for long minutes before even attempting to make an effort to get clean. 

Leia’s home wasn’t far, an attractive split-level with a large yard. Hux took in a trio of garden gnomes peeking out through the snow with distaste. He made as if to knock, and Ren laughed, tugging him in through the garage. Hux tried to dissect his anxiety at the situation, but came up short.

A long table started near the kitchen and extended out into the family room, several extra leaves in the center. Rey and Finn were occupied setting the table. Poe coaxed some sort of casserole out of the oven while Leia prepped fresh fruit on the counter. Ren hung their coats on a rack near the door and wandered over to the kitchen, leaving Hux stranded in the middle of the room. 

Rey fixed him with a pointed stare. “New sheets,” she demanded in a stage whisper. Hux raised his hands and held them out in front of him while Finn choked back a laugh. The kitchen suddenly seemed like a much better option.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked apprehensively from the kitchen doorway. If he could just be useful, he wouldn’t be so damnably nervous.    

Leia stared at him for a long moment before replying. “You can get the water,” she allowed. Gesturing toward one of the cabinets, she turned back to the fruit bowl. 

Once occupied, Hux felt some of the cloud lift from his shoulders. Before long, everything was ready, and Hux steeled himself for a genteel interrogation over breakfast. Surprisingly, it never came. Everyone managed to be polite, if a bit stiff when addressing, or even looking at him. Ren tried to include him in conversation, and gradually Hux began to let his guard down. 

Of course, that was when it hit. Leia waited until Ren excused himself to go to the restroom and the others were washing dishes before cornering him alone. 

“Tell me, Mr. Hux,” she said, resting her hands palm down on the table. “How did you come to be dating one of your employees? Is this a habit of yours?”

Hux frowned. “No, it isn’t,” he said defensively. “We actually met a few years ago. He needed a job, I needed to fill a position. I realize it’s unprofessional, but I never intended for things to go down this road.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So why did they?” 

“Because I got to know him,” Hux said, shifting in his chair. Leia nodded, and Hux had absolutely no intention of filling her in on just how they’d become better acquainted. He looked down at the table as he continued, figuring a little honesty couldn’t hurt. “I’ve never met anyone like your son. I’ve no idea what he sees in me, but I think that - I think that I make him happy.”

Leia sighed, resting her chin on her hand. The light streaming in through the window as she stared back out softened her face, but it couldn’t soften her words. “You should know by now that my son isn’t a happy person.”  

“What do you mean?” Hux wrinkled his brow. 

“He’s an angry person, just like his grandfather. He uses people. Ben’s always had a way of making his problems into everyone’s problems, and now it looks like he’s roped you in, too.” 

“There’s some anger in him, yes,” Hux admitted, growing a bit angry himself. “But that doesn’t define who he is.”    

“Stick around long enough,” Leia advised. “You’ll see.”

“I have every intention of sticking around,” Hux assured her, an edge creeping into his tone. “Why can’t you just be happy for your son?”

“Happy that he’s dating you?” Leia asked, incredulous. 

Hux tsked. “I meant be happy that he’s happy.”

“Ben had so much potential, and he never did anything but waste it.”

Hux found her use of the past tense unsettling. “What exactly did he fail to do?”

“Anything,” Leia answered, spreading her hands. “He’s never known what he wanted to do, or who he wanted to be.”

It took Hux a moment to respond without shouting. “Let me guess. He was supposed to do everything you didn’t because you had him.” 

Leia glared at him fiercely. For a moment, Hux thought she might vault the table and deck him. “I just wanted to see my son succeed,” she said, her tone almost earnest. Almost. “He could have done something great. Instead he decided to live out of a van with those animals he called friends and play the guitar for pocket change. We gave him every opportunity, and he threw it back in our faces.”

Silence settled in between them like another guest at the table. After a long moment, Hux shifted again, leaning forward. “Have you actually heard his music?”

“Mr. Hux, I’ve been hearing his music since he was a teenager practising in the garage.”

Hux couldn’t help but smile at the image that conjured. “You don’t consider that successful? Or does it not count, because it wasn’t ever something you wanted?”

“I’m going to assume you don’t have any children,” Leia responded, her expression stoney. 

“Thankfully not,” Hux said. “But let me make a suggestion. If you want a better relationship with your son, you might want to try appreciating him for who he is, instead of eulogizing who he isn’t.” Hux backed his chair away from the table and stood up just as Ren walked back into the room. 

“Ready to go?” Hux asked with obvious relief. 

Ren’s gaze slid to his mother, who stared at the table. “Yeah, I think so.” 

 

The door shut behind them with a little too much force. Walking back to the car, Ren wore a pensive look. 

“Could you not play nice for ten minutes?” Ren glanced up at the sky, tiny patches of blue breaking through the clouds. 

Hux opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. No good would come of telling Ren about his conversation with Leia. “She started it,” he said, a bit sheepishly.

Ren snorted, looking back at the house. “I’m not surprised.”

“If it helps, I was defending your honor.” Hux smiled, opening the door for Ren before climbing in on the driver’s side.  

“I know,” Ren responded, his expression stuck between annoyed and amused. “I heard most of it from the hall.” 

Hux winced. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m used to it,” Ren replied, and Hux wanted to hit something. 

“You know it’s all bullshit, right?” Hux reached over to take Ren’s hand, letting the heat spread through the car. “Everything she said.” 

“She’s not a bad person,” Ren said after a moment. 

“Just a bad parent,” Hux summed up. It was no wonder Ren craved instruction, he thought. He had a lifetime of lofty expectations and no real direction. The rules between them were carefully laid out. He knew what to expect, whether he succeeded or failed. With Hux, even failure had its rewards. 

The back of the Rover was crammed with two boxes and a suitcase, Ren’s guitar case and other assorted equipment taking up the backseat. Hux supposed he’d been playing gigs around town while staying with his family, taking advantage of the seasonal crowds. If it seemed like a lot to travel with, Hux wasn’t going to comment. Not everyone traveled light. 

Ren waved at his Honda as they passed an auto repair shop, sitting dead in the lot. His long-suffering fuel pump had at last given out, and without a spare $500 to pay the mechanic, he had effectively been stuck in Mount Bespin. Hux wished he had known, but he doubted Ren would have let him pay for it anyway.  

“I’m going to stop by the cemetery on our way, if that’s all right.” Hux said, turning onto a main road. “I have something I need to say to my father.” 

Ren simply nodded, clearly not surprised. Hux programmed his GPS, but didn’t end up needing it. He remembered the downtown grid, and even managed to find a place to park near the historic placard. Not many people chose to welcome in the new year with the dead.

After a bit of meandering, Hux found the plot, tracing a path up the hill from the gate where he’d first seen Ren. Stark and imposing, his father’s gravestone mimicked the man well. A metal vase sat before it, yellow plastic flowers coated in snow, the name Brendol A. Hux etched just above. A small anchor occupied the central space near, the operations he’d served in carved below. Hux had wondered at the service why he hadn’t been buried in Arlington, or better yet, at sea, to save everyone the time and expense. 

Hux stood silently beside the stone for several minutes, Ren waiting patiently a few steps back. Eventually Hux made a gruff sound low in his throat and kicked the marker hard enough to dislodge the line of snow coating the top. He spared the flowers, imagining his father’s wife visiting one day to find the vase dented and on its side. However poor her taste in men, she didn’t deserve that.

“Rot in hell, you bastard,” he said, infusing the words with a lifetime of venom. It felt good to get them out, like a toxin draining away into the ground beneath his feet. Hux turned away sharply and didn’t see how hard Ren worked to control his laughter before following him down the gravel path. 

 

The drive back was peaceful, Hux focusing on the icy roads while Ren fiddled with the stereo. Hux tapped his fingers on the wheel, watching the signs for the city grow closer. He was running out of time to ask the question and growing more nervous by the mile.

“So,” he started in, aiming for as light a tone as he could manage. He was once again a jumble of nerves, staring out the windshield without really watching the road. “Where am I taking you?” He saw Ren straighten up out of the corner of his eye. 

“I, uh,” was all Ren managed, one hand gripping the seat. 

“It’s just - with all your equipment, I thought you might want to take it by your apartment? I - I’ll take you anywhere you like,” Hux fumbled, pulling up short at a red light. 

“I don’t so much have an apartment anymore,” Ren confessed, glancing warily at Hux. “They kicked me out a while ago. Couldn’t make rent.” 

A yawning pit opened in Hux’s stomach. “Is that why you went to stay with your family?” 

Ren shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t want to, but it was getting really cold and I -” he broke off, drumming his fingers on the dash. “I wore out my welcome at Mercy’s place, and I’m kinda banned for life from the nicer shelters downtown so I sucked it up and called home. Still kinda pissed at myself for it.” He didn’t look at Hux, the words sounding tired and threadbare.   

The fact that a former lover had kicked him out into the cold stirred up a hot point of rage in Hux’s gut, but knowing that Ren had probably been sleeping in his car, and had only gone to his mother’s as a last resort dragged it down like a weight. “I didn’t want to push,” Hux said, trying to speak around the painful lump in his throat. “But if you’d be comfortable -”

“Can we just go back to your place?” Ren interrupted Hux’s careful question with his own, the words strung together a bit too quickly. He was too still, the air between them tense. 

“Of course,” Hux said with obvious relief. “I just - well. Making assumptions hasn’t worked out so well for me lately.”  

“You assumed I’d want to see you last night,” Ren teased with a smile. 

“I hoped,” Hux corrected. “There’s a difference.” Ren reached across and tugged Hux’s right hand from where it rested on the gearshift, threading their fingers together. The streets passed by in a blur and before long, Hux was shifting the Rover into park behind the shop. Only a dusting of snow had fallen here, the trees weighed down and dripping with ice.    

They wrangled Ren’s gear up the stairs in a couple of trips and corralled it in the empty space to the right of the door. It was chilly inside, and Hux cut on the fire in the hearth after hanging up his coat. Toeing off his shoes next to the rack, Hux decided a pot of tea would be a fabulous idea.   

“Would you like me to make some -” he started, before being interrupted. 

“Not really,” Ren answered, slipping up from behind. He boxed Hux in with a hand to either side of his shoulders.  

“Mmm,” Hux mused, running one hand up Ren’s chest. “What would you like, then?” 

Leaning in close, Ren nuzzled at Hux’s neck. “Want you to fuck me,” he said, voice so low it was nearly a growl. 

The words traveled across his skin and then beneath, feeling them like a physical presence in his bones. Hux wrapped his hand around the back of Ren’s neck, and turned to press a wet kiss against his cheek. Nipping at his earlobe, Hux slid his hand down Ren’s side and beneath the hem of his shirt. He lifted it up slowly, brushing his fingers across Ren’s skin lightly enough to draw out a shiver. 

Impatient, Ren tugged it over his head and let it fall to the floor. His nipples were firm, though whether from the cold or arousal, Hux couldn’t tell. He reached out to pinch one, enjoying the moan it dragged from Ren’s lips.  

“This morning wasn’t enough for you?” Hux said, his tone light and almost joking. It definitely wasn’t enough for him. 

Shaking his head, Ren tugged at Hux’s sweater. “Want you inside me,” he breathed, leaning in against Hux’s forehead. Hux’s dick responded before the rest of him, twitching at the thought. 

“God, yes,” Hux answered. His mind hummed with words like  _ claim, keep, mine _ . Pushing off from the wall, he crowded Ren back up against a support beam. Ren gave a short gasp, letting out a hissing breath as the rough wood scraped against his back. Capturing Ren’s mouth in a kiss, Hux pushed his tongue in past his lips and didn’t stop until he was whimpering and thrusting against him. 

Pulling back over Ren’s vocal protests, Hux fumbled with the belt at Ren’s waist, then made short work of the buttons and zipper. He shoved the jeans roughly down to Ren’s knees, leaning back in for a brief kiss before allowing him to struggle out of the heavy fabric. He left them in a crumpled pile as Hux guided him backward, arms around his waist, sliding up his back. Ren worked his hands beneath the hem of Hux’s sweater, scrunching it up until Hux lifted his arms and let Ren pull it off over his head. He wasn’t sure where it landed, and the thought didn’t bother him in the least. 

Hux congratulated himself on navigating the step up past the couch for both of them, aiming for the bedroom. Ren’s arms wrapped tight around his neck as they crashed into the doorframe, sending a shudder through the wall. Hux laughed against Ren’s mouth, feeling his lips curl up into a grin. He ducked down to slide his tongue along Ren’s neck, flicking at the hollow below his ear. Ren made a pleased sound, slotting their hips together and Hux let him rut against him, eyes shut, feeling it like an electric charge running the length of his body. 

Biting down on Ren’s earlobe, Hux used the brief moment of surprise it gained him to move them out of the doorway and into the room. Tugging Ren’s arms from his neck, Hux shoved him down onto the bed. Ren bounced a little, before pulling off his briefs and tossing them aside. Hux moved to the foot of the bed and stood between Ren’s legs, spread open obscenely. 

“Why are you still dressed?” Ren asked, sounding breathless and jokingly annoyed. 

“Good question,” Hux answered, grabbed his undershirt from behind his neck and dragging it over his head. Ren’s hands moved to his waist, unhooking his belt and nearly ripping the button on his khakis. Hux was too busy admiring the view before him to be bothered. Ren’s erection bobbed up and down as he moved, first unzipping and then shoving down Hux’s trousers. Leaning in, Ren ran his tongue up the outline of Hux’s cock through his briefs. Hux’s eyes rolled back as he growled, pushing them down his legs and shoving Ren farther backwards onto the bed.  Ren scrambled back on his elbows, watching hungrily as Hux climbed on the bed and crawled forward.  

Leaning over him, Hux kissed Ren hard on the mouth. He felt Ren’s knees lift up to bracket his hips, and pulled back, not without effort. Ren lifted up, trying to follow but Hux pressed his fingers to his mouth. Reaching for the bedside table, Hux dug out a condom and a small bottle of lube from the drawer. Ren eyed them lying on the mattress with an uneasy look. Pushing the foil square to one side, he looked up at Hux. 

“You promised,” he said. “Nothing between us.” 

Hux went still, looking down at Ren’s confused expression. “Well,” he fumbled, unsure how to continue. “I mean, I haven't - but I didn’t know if - well,” he left off glancing away.

Ren guided Hux’s attention back with a hand on his chin. He gave a quiet laugh. “God knows I tried to get over you,” he explained. “Pretty much any way I could, but when it came down to it, I just - it didn’t feel right.” He stared up at the ceiling, avoiding Hux’s gaze. 

“You didn’t owe me that,” Hux said, quietly astonished. 

“I know,” Ren answered wryly, aiming a sharp flick of his fingers at Hux’s earlobe. His expression changed, and Hux felt trouble coming like a sudden storm. Moving his hand to stroke Hux’s cheek, Ren looked up at him with a cunning sort of lust. “Aren’t you going to tell me I was a good boy?”    

Something squirmed in Hux’s chest, but Ren’s words traveled straight to his dick and that was close to overriding his good sense. If that was what Ren needed to hear, well, Hux could certainly oblige. “You’ve been a very good boy,” Hux said, low and throaty, leaning down to press his mouth against Ren’s ear. “Not letting anyone touch what’s mine.” Ren let out a sigh and wrapped one hand around Hux’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. It took Hux’s breath away, long and slow and undeniably needy.   

“Want to feel you,” Ren murmured against his lips. “All of you. Want you to come inside me, want you to fill me up.” 

The words made him dizzy, and Hux nipped at Ren’s lower lip before pushing himself back up to reach for the lube. His head swam from Ren’s desire, from that kiss. Sliding down Ren’s body to reach the end of the bed, Hux tongued at his right nipple, drawing it into his mouth. He watched Ren’s eyes slide shut as he dragged his teeth lightly across it before moving on. 

Hux kissed and licked his way down Ren’s chest and abdomen, feeling Ren writhe beneath him. Crouching between his hips, Hux took Ren’s cock into his mouth only to suck and slide back up. Ren’s hips bucked, and Hux pushed him down roughly, holding him against the mattress. 

“Hold me down,” Ren begged, hands grasping the pillows to either side of his head. His face was flushed, his eyes wild, and Hux wanted nothing more than to do as Ren asked. Still, of the two of them Ren was larger, broader, and Hux wasn’t quite sure how to accomplish it. He broke out in a grin as he remembered a bit of planning that never came to fruition. It only seemed fitting to put it to use now.  

Hux crawled forward, knees against Ren’s chest as he felt behind the headboard for the ring he’d almost forgotten was there. There were three, but this one would suffice for now. He felt Ren’s tongue sliding hot along his cock, root to tip, like a bolt of lightning down his spine. His hips thrust forward of their own accord, letting Ren get his lips around the tip and rub the taut line of muscle beneath. 

“Stop that,” he chided, knowing he wouldn’t last long enough if Ren kept up his attentions. Ren obediently drew back, a thin line of saliva dripping between. He looked anything but sorry. When he’d regained his senses, Hux shuffled back a bit and pulled open the larger drawer below the nightstand, hoping what he needed was still there. It was.

Lifting out a length of rope, Hux dropped it on the bed and lifted Ren’s wrists to his lips, one at a time. He wrapped the rope tightly around the right, threading it through the ring before wrapping the left and working it into a triple-looped handcuff knot. Ren tugged against it, testing the strength, and Hux favored him with a wicked smile. “It’ll hold,” he assured him. 

Settling in at the foot of the bed, Hux ran his fingers across Ren’s balls, pulled up tight. Ren’s knees drew up, and Hux pressed a kiss to his inner thigh. Sliding his fingers farther down, he stroked the sensitive skin behind the sack and pressed against his entrance. Ren muffled a grunt, biting his lip when he slowly circled his finger around. Hux slid off the bed for a better angle and hooked his arms beneath Ren’s knees. 

Things he’d never wanted to do for anyone else now seemed like the obvious choice. Pressing his mouth against the tight clench of muscle between his cheeks, Hux swirled his tongue around, holding Ren in place when he cried out in surprise. Pressing in and out, twisting his tongue from side to side, Hux slowly urged Ren to relax.            

It didn’t take long, Ren’s gasps and moans of pleasure filling Hux’s ears. Reaching for the bottle of lube, Hux coated two fingers and gently rubbed against Ren’s entrance. He pressed inside, fingers sliding easily past the muscled ring. He watched Ren’s mouth fall open as his hips thrust forward, bearing down against Hux’s hand. Hux twisted his wrist, moving his fingers back and forth to aid the stretch. His knuckles brushed just the right spot and Ren jerked, tugging at his bonds. Hux did it again. 

Pulling out, Hux applied more lube, pressing it deep inside. He stroked the skin around the hole with a third finger, eventually slipping it past the boundary to join the others. Ren thrust back hard and Hux allowed it, furthering the stretch. When he judged Ren prepared enough, Hux climbed back up on the bed to kiss him once, hard and demanding. Ren groaned into his mouth, arching his back to meet Hux’s hips. 

“Please,” he breathed, chest heaving. “Please, Hux, I need it. Need you.”   

Grabbing a pillow, Hux shoved it beneath Ren’s hips, angling him up. He stroked himself lightly, spreading lube along his length. Lining himself up, Hux pressed inside just past the head and felt Ren clench around him. 

“C’mon,” Ren urged. “Waited so long for this, come on, just -” He broke off when Hux thrust deeper, one hand gripping his ass, the other wrapped around his knee.  

“Mouthy, aren’t you?” Hux huffed out, shallow thrusts growing deeper and picking up speed. He thanked the stars for New Year’s Day. With no one downstairs to hear them, they could be as loud as they liked. “I’ll have to get you a gag.” 

An incoherent moan greeted his statement. Hux shifted, changing the angle of his thrusts to drive Ren past the point of conscious thought. His eyes fell shut, and he forced them open again to take in the sight of Ren sprawled out before him, knees pulled back, arms straining at the ropes. His own grunts and gasps sounded loud in his ears, nearly drowning out the obscene smack of flesh against flesh. His legs shook, his hold on Ren’s hip beginning to slip. Hux lifted Ren’s right knee and braced it on his shoulder, lifting him off the pillow. 

Reaching around Ren’s thigh, Hux stroked his hand up Ren’s erection, watching it twitch against his hand. Ren’s mouth hung open, his eyes white beneath fluttering lids. Hux slowed his thrusts, managing to keep up a rhythm while taking Ren’s cock in hand and stroking root to tip. Ren thrust back against him mindlessly and Hux twisted his hand on his shaft. 

A stream of incoherent sounds fell from Ren’s lips while his thrusts grew shorter, faster. Hux pumped his cock, fisting the head through a tight grip. Ren’s entire body jerked before he came, spilling hot across his abdomen. Hux still stroked gently, feeling the aftershocks through the muscles squeezing relentlessly around him. Holding Ren’s legs fast, Hux let his thrusts grow quick and shallow, almost there. 

“C’mon,” Ren urged hoarsely, pushing back against Hux’s thrusts. He moved to brush Ren’s prostate again with each push, stalling any more words from Ren’s mouth as he made stifled cries. It was those sounds that pushed him over the edge, feeling them on his skin and burrowing down. He wanted to keep them, wanted to drag them from Ren as often as possible. His hips stuttering, Hux came hard, dragging Ren back against him with each forceful thrust. 

Hux slowed, his muscles giving out all at once. He pressed his forehead to Ren’s hipbone, lingering there a moment against the fevered skin before sliding out. He was still slick and wet, a trail of come trickling out from Ren to soak into the covers. Hux supposed if it didn’t wash out, he could just buy another.

Lifting Ren’s leg off his shoulder, Hux pulled the pillow out from under him and tossed it toward the headboard. He climbed back onto the bed and collapsed, stretching out beside Ren. His eyes were still closed, his chest heaving. Hux ran a hand down Ren’s chest and left it there, feeling his heart beat fast. 

The thought of ever moving from the spot was intolerable, but with a groan, Hux realized he should get something to clean them off. Pressing a quick kiss to Ren’s cheek, he rolled out of bed and wet a flannel in the bathroom. Returning, he cleaned Ren off first, gently wiping him clean. Ren mumbled what might have been a ‘thank you,’ Hux couldn’t tell, as he cleaned himself off. 

Tossing the wet rag through the bathroom door, Hux began working on the knots at Ren’s wrists. Freeing him from the rope, Hux pressed his lips against the reddened skin. Ren gradually moved his arms, slow and hesitant at first, and Hux worked his fingers into the muscles.

Ren shivered, and Hux tugged down the duvet on one side, pulling back the sheet. “Here,” he said, gesturing for Ren to move. He managed it, looking half asleep as he slid beneath the covers. Relieved, Hux moved gratefully down to lie beside him. Ren rolled over on his side and scooted close, his back to Hux in a wordless request. Wrapping an arm around Ren’s waist, Hux molded his body to Ren’s angles, encouraged by his wordless murmurs of assent. Hux pressed a light kiss to the back of Ren’s neck and heard a soft, pleased sigh.   

“I hope I didn’t disappoint,” Hux said softly, regretting it instantly. 

“Don’t even start,” Ren mumbled, a laugh hiding under his breath. He reached back and brushed a reassuring hand against Hux’s hip before moving farther back to pinch his ass. Hux gave a startled yelp.  “That was amazing and you know it.” 

“What you wanted, then?” Hux asked the question carefully, a wriggling doubt refusing to be ignored.

“Fuck, yes,” Ren answered. “What I wanted. What I want.” 

Hux smiled into Ren’s hair, only just needing to hear it to believe. He squeezed Ren’s waist, and Ren placed his hand over Hux’s own. They fell asleep like that, legs tangled together, and when Hux dreamed it was of soft light and warm, welcoming sounds.  


	13. Chapter 13

Evening found them comfortably ensconced by the fireplace, Hux leaning back lazily in the warmth of Ren’s arms. They’d barely bothered getting dressed, just a pair of sweatpants for Hux and shorts for Ren. The earlier chill had dissipated, and Hux had the stray thought that the loft had never felt so comfortable.

“It was always going to work, you know,” Ren said in a sly tone, interrupting his drifting thoughts.  

“What was?” Hux asked, wondering if Ren was talking about them.  

“You showing up in Bespin, ready to drag me back to your cave by the hair.”

Hux spluttered. “I - it wasn’t like that!”

“Yes it was,” Kylo insisted. “And it was hot.” Shifting his position so his breath traveled warm down Hux’s neck, he nibbled gently at his ear.

“You were rather angry with me,” Hux reminded him.

“Yeah,” Ren conceded. “But I saw you standing there, looking like you were totally ready to fight my family,” he broke off with a short laugh. “Your hair was all messed up, and your face was red, and it was like all the things I’d been mad about just - didn’t matter.”

“You could have fooled me,” Hux said.

“Hey, I couldn’t let you think I was that easy,” Kylo returned, though his tone held a hint of unease and Hux felt his breaths grow short. They both knew Kylo’s anger and pained confusion had been real, no matter how hard he tried to play it off.

“God,” Kylo sighed. “I just wanted you to tell me we were leaving. Wanted you to make me.” He tightened his arms around Hux, who gave a soft tsk at the confession.

“Now you tell me,” Hux said wryly. “You came -” he started, wanting to follow with _home_. “You came with me because you wanted to,” he concluded, wishing it didn’t sound so much like a question.  

“I did,” Ren answered. “I think that’s for the best, in the long run.”

Hux half-turned in the circle of Ren’s arms. “The long run, hmm?” He tried to make it sound like a joke to cover up the captive, winged thing fluttering in his chest.

“I was kind of hoping,” Ren answered, echoing Hux’s tone.

“Good.” Hux stretched up and wrapped one hand around Ren’s neck, giving him a long, determined kiss.  

 

One day at a time, they found a rhythm together. The boxes by the door gradually began to filter out into the rest of the loft and Hux only rearranged them once or twice. His extra shelving began to fill with books and records and comical knicknacks. In a gesture of encouragement, Hux brought home a stand for Ren’s guitar and set it up beneath the windows to catch the afternoon light. He feigned complete innocence when Ren came in and saw it with surprise, claiming it must have wandered in all on its own. There was plenty of unused room in the northeast corner for all of Ren’s recording gear, and it quickly became Ren’s own space.  He was properly grateful, and Hux had never been so thoroughly gratified.

Hux took to reading on the couch while Ren played, enveloped in the sound. For his part, Ren encouraged Hux’s casual interest in bookbinding and repair, transforming his knowledge from academic to practical with a few nudges in the right direction. He wasn’t very good yet, but Ren’s excitement and praise with each new project kept him working at it. Their time together was rarely quiet, and Hux wondered why he had ever wanted silence.

Ren made a show at first of looking for other places, but they both knew he wouldn’t leave. After a while he stopped searching the online classifieds for roommates and started taking his clothes out of his suitcase. Hux walked into the bedroom one night to see Ren’s surprised face, taking in the space Hux had made for him in the closet. He shrugged and glanced away, feeling his cheeks heat as Ren stared at him without speaking.  

Ren crossed the floorboards and reached out to lift Hux’s chin. He kissed him, soft and sweet, before wrapping his arms around Hux’s waist. “Thank you,” he said.

“I was hoping,” Hux explained. If the occasional new item appeared on Ren’s side, well, who could blame him? It still thrilled Hux to see Ren wearing something he’d picked out. Ren knew it, and made the most of it every time he caught Hux watching  On one memorable occasion, asking Hux to do up the buttons on a crisp new oxford quickly led to Ren bent over the sink, wearing nothing but that.

Hux never asked Ren to help out in the shop, but he did of his own accord. They never talked about it, but Hux appreciated the effort all the same. He assumed Ren filled the others in on the situation and patently ignored any whispering or gossip that caught his ear. Ren was his, that was all that mattered, not what anyone else thought about it.

They had their spats for certain, from wet towels left on the floor to personal politics to money. Their schedules were different, which always seemed to result in less sleep for Hux. One day Hux made the mistake of lying about the cost of repairs on Ren’s car after he insisted upon paying him back. When Ren discovered the larger bill in the filing cabinet, there were raised voices and slammed doors, but thankfully no broken windows. It wasn’t perfect, but Hux slowly began to realize that it didn’t have to be.

 

Hux waited eagerly one evening, lights turned low, for Ren to return from a show in town. He had a surprise for Ren, something he’d been working on for an embarrassingly long time. A local leather supply offered classes, and the draw of making this with his own hands had been too much to resist.

Hux watched from the dark bedroom doorway while Ren shuffled in earlier than expected, gear in tow. The glow that settled around him after a successful performance was absent, and Hux could see disappointment in the lines of his body. It was a good night, then, for the object waiting on the bed.

“Hux?” he called out, glancing around.

“Over here,” Hux answered, pushing off from the lintel. Ren’s face brightened as he stepped into the room, and Hux felt the flutter in his chest that rose up whenever Ren smiled. For a moment he reconsidered, weighing the option of simply kissing him in the hopes of dispelling the cloud that clung to Ren like a ghost. No, he thought. No, this was going to be better.

Ren crossed the space, taking the step up toward the bedroom but Hux stopped him with a single word. “Down.” Ren sank obediently to his knees, his posture telegraphing a kind of relief.

Emboldened, Hux stepped forward. Combing a hand through Ren’s hair, still damp with sweat, Hux gently pushed his head down. “Hands behind your back,” he ordered, and Ren complied. Hux pulled a pair of shortened handcuffs from his pocket and fastened them around Ren’s wrists, holding them nearly together. “Stay.”

Hux wandered to the kitchen, putting a few things away, pretending to be busy. He shifted things around on his worktable, managing to take up half an hour before returning to where Ren knelt on the floor. His posture was relaxed, head still down, most of the tension gone from his frame. Hux ducked into the bedroom where a red leather collar sat on the duvet and picked it up, running his finger along the small letter H embossed by the buckle.

Returning to where Ren knelt, Hux lifted his chin with two fingers. “Sit up,” he asked, and Ren corrected his posture. Hux saw his eyes catch on the collar in his hand, widening as his mouth fell open. Hux moved to stand behind him, sliding the collar around his neck. It was thick and lightly padded, about 3 centimetres wide.

“Yes?” he asked quietly, pausing before closing it around Ren’s neck.

“Yes,” Ren breathed, making a whisper sound emphatic.  It buckled at just the perfect length, and Hux was pleased with his guesswork. “Thank you, sir,” Ren said, a tremor in his voice.    

“You’ve earned it,” Hux said, trying to keep a dominant edge to his voice but falling a bit short. “You deserve it.”

Ren preened, unable to keep a smile from his lips. Hux was glad he’d taken the risk. It could have been a very bad move, but Ren’s reaction proved that fear unfounded. Hux took him to bed and drew out the night, driving Ren wild, making him beg, until all traces of whatever had happened at the show vanished from his eyes.

He rose early the next morning, leaving the other half of the gift for Ren to see when he woke. A thin red band cut from the same leather lay open on the pillow, a pentagonal key placed carefully beside it. Ren couldn’t wear the collar all the time - at least, Hux assumed he wouldn’t want to, outside the loft, but he could keep the band with him everywhere else. He hoped it would be a pleasant reminder of who Ren belonged to, and who was always going to be waiting for him when he came home.

 

Hux loved the sound of rain. A delicate patter on the roof, the light tap against the windows while inside all was warm and dry. The cool lingering showers in spring, misting up the windows and dripping from wet branches overhead. An unexpected autumn deluge leaving debris in its wake, a miniature tide spinning down the storm drain. Even the great thundering gales of summer that lashed about the building, rattling the glass in each pane. These were things he had learned to love, cautiously, and not without aid.

He still didn't love the huddled masses that made their way inside, throwing back their hoods and shaking umbrellas at the new releases. Nor the children who traveled in packs, fingers sticky and wet and bound to touch every single item at their height. Hux would never grow fond of the wet muck his customers tracked across the tiles from History to Romance, but he was still interested in their money.

Their business kept the ship afloat, kept him surrounded by the brick and ink and paper from which he had built his home. Hux had weathered worse storms than these. He would see his way through worse still, he was sure, but not alone.

Glancing up from a manual on print restoration, Hux saw that Ren had managed to sneak in unnoticed. Most of his days were spent in the studio with Mercy and Rook, recording and editing and mixing down until his thoughts bled out his ears. So he claimed, at any rate, and Hux was grateful Ren didn't mean that literally.

Hux admired the fit of a white oxford shirt across Ren's broad chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbows but buttoned nearly to the top. His eyes traveled down the black jeans that fit just so, clinging in all the right places. The bright red trainers had been a recent gift, a concession to the rebellious streak in Ren that Hux was coming to appreciate more and more. He wore the single red band looped around his left wrist as if it was a part of him now, the usual tangle of bracelets shunted to the other side.

Ren was a sight to drink in, deep in conversation with a local academic over the Punic Wars or the Tet Offensive or Operation Overlord. He was animated, hands in the air, and Hux could only think about how those strong fingers had been occupied this morning. Finishing his conversation with the professor, Ren turned back toward the counter where Hux was stood watching, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile.

Ren's eyes flicked down to the soft black t-shirt he'd bought for Hux after dragging him out to see Radio Silence headlining for Dead Sea Tapes. Fully prepared to hate the entire affair, Hux wound up leaving with an autographed CD and a limited edition press on marbled red vinyl. He was slowly accumulating his own collection of cryptic t-shirts, this one sporting multicolored triangles precisely aligned within each other in a way that calmed his thoughts. He wore them beneath respectably collared shirts, of course, but Hux had gradually come to appreciate some variation in his wardrobe. Ren had left a pair of black lace up trainers on his side of the closet as a gentle suggestion, but Hux had to draw the line somewhere.

Amy held court at the registers, greeting customers she knew by heart with a flower crown and a radiant smile. Cassie churned out perfect works of art behind the coffee bar while cracking jokes with Xander. Thanisson shelved just close enough to Mitaka to make him blush whenever possible, and Hux was grateful for the shift in the employing betting pool from his personal life to theirs. There was a place for everything, and everything in its place, even if the lines had shifted to shore up the gaps.

Nothing changed, until everything changed. Nothing was ever perfect, but perfection wasn't everything. The great noise of the world roared on outside, exhilarating and terrifying, but it was nothing compared to the sound of Ren's voice when he sang, the sound of Ren's heartbeat in his ear, the sound of Ren talking in his sleep.

Let the world turn on and on. Let the stars fall from the sky. Hux knew his course, and where to set his sights. In the end, all that mattered was charting the way home.   

 

 

“ _The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.” – Ernest Hemingway_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote about 80% of this for the 2016 KBB, but due to health issues I wasn't able to finish it or anything else for a long time. Posting this after so long is a bit of a personal triumph for me, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it. The amazing art that captured Kylo so well is by my KBB artist [valiantbarnes](http://valiantbarnes.tumblr.com). Go tell Al how fantastic and talented they are!
> 
> Huge thanks to my amazing beta and partner in crime, [dreamingofawolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rl4sb4eva/pseuds/dreamingofawolf). Without your tireless cheerleading, this fic wouldn't exist. Thanks for putting up with me on this one. Shoutout also to the Skype Sin Bin for encouraging me when I thought I was losing my mind. 
> 
> You can listen to the mix Kylo made for Hux [over here](https://playmoss.com/en/griesly/playlist/how-the-light-gets-in). 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://sithrabbit.tumblr.com). :)


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